Rememory
by fandombloggingaddict
Summary: For a year now, Arthur, the knights, and everyone else around him had been cruel, violent, and controlling. Merlin didn't question it anymore - he's accepted it. And, really, who was he to say he didn't deserve it? He was still by Arthur's side, fulfilling his destiny. However the king chose to treat him didn't matter. Warnings: abuse, conditioning, starvation, sleep deprivation
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have had this story in my head for a few years and just never wrote it out. I hope it lives up to how much I have built it up in my head. There is so much Merlin whump - I'm serious, it's a lot. But it's not OOC, and there is some comfort to offset the hurt. The title is inspired by a thematic concept prevalent in the work of author Toni Morrison - rememory is reliving past experiences, especially in flashbacks, and it defines who we are, our triggers, our needs, and our motivations.**

 **Feedback is very much appreciated!**

The king held his hand over the pinned man's mouth. The other gloved hand held the red-hot iron rod to the shaking servant's flank. Merlin screamed into the leather muffling his cries, his body convulsing as flaming agony overwhelmed him. But he knew to be quieter than that, so when the hand was removed from his face, he caught the next scream as the searing iron moved a bit, pulling smoking and charred skin with it. He let slip only a whimper. He was sweating and shaking, but the bucking calmed as the rod cooled gradually.

The rod wasn't pulled away yet. Taking a tumultuous breath as his chest hitched jerkily, Merlin looked up at his king. Arthur was still, he was no longer seething. He seemed confused like he'd just woken up, and not where he'd fallen asleep.

Merlin felt uncomfortable like he was intruding on a private moment. It was time for him to go. He'd learned that sometimes, no order was spoken but he was expected to anticipate his master's desires. So the servant inched back and carefully stood uttering only a few groans. After he gingerly pulled his shirt on and made it to the door, he risked a glance back at the king still kneeling a foot from the fireplace, staring pensively at the stone floor. It was unsettling: Arthur was always alert and ready to catch his servant making a mistake. But he hadn't ruminated so deeply and suddenly since the old days, when he'd gotten caught up on matters of morality or a heavy decision for the kingdom.

Merlin turned back to the door and stepped out quietly with a wince. If he could just make it to his room without being seen by a bored knight looking for someone to hurt, he might just be able to chip away at his chores in private and make them far more manageable by morning.

When he woke up at sunrise, Merlin's eyes widened and his heart jumped into his throat. He was so overcome with anxious nausea that he couldn't get up for a moment. He'd done it again, and he was going to be punished so bad this time.

It had been hard lately to do a lot of things. If he hadn't been a physician in training, he might have thought this was the end for him. His body was always stiff, always aching. His mind was so focused on moving smoothly, standing straight, never falling, never tripping, never dropping things, always being aware but never lifting his eyes from the ground... it was all he could do anytime he was alone not to keel over from exhaustion. He wasn't allowed to eat anything without permission (which was rarely granted), and he was never allowed something for the pain. It wasn't helped by the fact that he was rarely able to sleep, what with his many chores and duties, and the nightmares.

But none of that excused the fact that he had just slept in. Not by much, barely at all really, but the king liked to wake up at sunrise. Any later, especially if a king's breakfast wasn't laid out for him, and there'd be a broken bone in it for the servant. His right arm was already fractured two times over, so it just hung uselessly at his side. He didn't have the time to put it in a wrap or a sling, and he'd probably get in trouble for it anyway.

His mind was getting dangerously close to wandering back to sleep. Merlin forced himself up and across the room.

Arthur was already awake. Merlin was halfway across the room before he realized. He knelt smoothly and bowed his head. "My lord."

"Merlin," Arthur replied groggily. He was sitting up on the edge of his bed, looking sleepy and deep in thought.

That was strange, Merlin hadn't been called anything but 'servant' or 'boy' or 'you' in a long time. Except for when he was really in trouble, when he was struck down and pinned and the iron was close to his skin and the king said his name like he was playing coy, like he knew he deserved what was coming so he should just stop struggling.

"What happened?" The king asked. Merlin just knew that there was a beating coming.

"I-I'm sorry, sire, you must have fallen asleep in your clothes last night, I thought you wanted to be alone, but I d-didn't come back to see if you needed anything. I should have thought to stop in, I'm sorry."

Arthur looked up, seemingly startled by the reaction. "That's not what I meant. I was talking about..." He paused, looking at his manservant, and he froze. "No."

Merlin was bracing himself for his punishment, but when the king stood, he ran to the window. The blonde unceremoniously shoved it open and retched. The servant was shocked and couldn't help but stare. Arthur finished and turned back to face the room, wiping at his mouth absently. He slowly, hesitantly, walked toward the kneeling man, stopping a short distance away.

"Sire?" The servant asked quietly.

"It can't be," Arthur muttered. "I wouldn't..." He shook his head. "These memories, they can't be real." He rubbed at his temples, eyes closed. Then, they opened and his arms fell to his sides. "Merlin, why are you kneeling?"

"Because you're the king," He answered, hoping it was the response the king was looking for. Mind games were not uncommon when he was angry.

Arthur seemed more upset.


	2. Chapter 2

Gaius looked up from where he was standing, frantically skimming a text, and he seemed both relieved and upset to see the king and his ward in the doorway.

"Merlin!" The physician cried. He walked toward the younger man, but stopped short. "Merlin, I am so sorry. I failed you. I should have known."

The servant's eyes were focused on the floor. He didn't really know what Gaius was talking about, and since he was with the king right now, the only words that he needed to listen to closely were his.

"Gaius, what's going on? I woke up this morning with all these... memories, as if yesterday I had been... I remember a year's worth of time that I was someone else. Does that make any sense? And Merlin's acting strange, which isn't really that unusual..." Arthur's near attempt at making fun of the man fell flat as the frigid coil of dread in his gut grew worse. He looked Gaius in the eye. "I think I've done something terrible."

"I fear that you are not alone in this, sire." The physician replied somberly. "I believe that many of us were possessed, or even cursed. For a year. You, me, the knights... I don't know who else, I've mostly stayed in this wing the whole time, as far as I can remember. But Merlin..." Gaius looked at Merlin, who was still standing at Arthur's side with his head bowed. "I was terrible to him."

Arthur shuddered. "It's nothing compared to what I did." He took a deep breath, shook his head, then stormed over to a wall and punched it, his knuckles cracking against the stone.

Merlin flinched.

"Merlin," Gaius said softly. "It's over."

No response.

"Merlin," Arthur tried. The servant looked up in question. "Did you hear him?"

Merlin suddenly looked nervous. He'd been caught not paying attention, and he didn't know what to say.

As he saw this reaction, Arthur remembered every time in the past year that he'd felt his own face contort into a sneer, a grin, or a frown when he found a fault in Merlin's behavior and set out to... correct it. The flashbacks made him want to hurl again. He steeled himself - he had to act more like a king and less like a friend in shock - and clarified.

"Everything that happened this year wasn't what it seemed. None of us wanted to hurt you."

The servant blinked. "What?" He asked quietly, confused.

Arthur looked to Gaius. Before he could try to explain further with the bits information he could grasp, the door opened by them and the knights rushed in. Merlin took a step back. Gwaine was first, looking desperate; Leon was next, looking like he was struggling to maintain his composure; and Percival was last, his face downcast though not concealing the tears that were falling from his eyes. The servant had no idea what to make of all this.

The knights looked to Gaius first - after all, they had come to ask him about what they had remembered as well - then they saw Arthur, and each man looked guiltier and angrier than before. Finally, they saw Merlin. Gwaine knelt at his feet with his head bowed. Percival followed with a quiet sound of emotion. Leon remained standing, but it seemed to be only out of habit of remaining presentable in royal court.

"Merlin," Gwaine breathed. "My friend, I cannot apologize enough for..." He faltered. Percival released a shaky breath and dipped his head lower.

The servant was staring at the scene. He was so blown away, confused, replaying the past year in his head. "Oh," Merlin finally spoke.

The others all looked at him, their expressions ranging from remorseful to agonized. Merlin took a step back, feeling a little overwhelmed. He looked away. "You don't have to."

"Yes we do," Leon asserted. "It was like the... the Lamia. I had no control, but I felt the hate, the rage... I remember it all. I want you to know-"

"It wasn't really you." Merlin nodded, looking away. "I understand."

Everyone seemed to falter in their bravado to speak. Gaius took the opportunity to step in. "Let me look you over, my boy."

As Gaius gestured, Merlin walked over to the med cot and carefully sat down.

"If you don't mind, sire, I think that he needs some time." The physician suggested to the king. Arthur looked at the servant a moment longer, then to his men.

"We'll leave you to your work, then." With that, the band of mournful men left.

Gaius returned to his ward and sat on the stool across from him. Without being asked, the servant took off his shirt with difficulty. The physician let him do it alone, not wanting to invade on his space, then was glad he was sitting down when he saw the young man's injuries. Immediately, he could tell that his right arm was broken, and maybe dislocated as well. And that clavicle was so bruised, it was likely fractured. His wrists were darkly bruised, as well as his neck as the neckerchief came off. There were livid bruises across his chest, marked intermittently by cuts and scrapes. And the physician was stopped still by the array of scarred and still healing burns along his left flank.

Gaius looked up to his face, with the black eye and split lip, cataloging the injuries and how they must hurt, how afraid he must have been, but the boy was looking away.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sire," Gaius nodded in deference as he stepped into the king's quarters.

"What's wrong, Gaius?" Arthur asked intuitively. The unspoken question hung in the air - 'Is Merlin okay?'

"It's Merlin," The physician answered. "He refuses to sleep and eat. I have administered all of the salves and wrappings I could, but they are near useless if the body cannot rest."

Arthur inhaled deeply and looked away. "He wasn't allowed." He said softly.

"Sorry, he wasn't allowed?" Gaius asked.

* * *

 _He was advancing toward the servant, and he felt a cold chuckle bubbling up. The boy was trembling, his breath was hitched and shallow. "You're hiding something, aren't you? Rather daring for a mere servant to lie to his king."_

 _Merlin shook his head. "I'm not, m-my lord."_

 _Arthur tilted his head and continued walking, slowly, deliberately. Merlin's back hit the wall behind him and Arthur was a foot away. "Sir Leon saw you do it."_

 _The younger man inhaled sharply and his eyes shot to the door. He was panicking. Arthur loved it._

 _"What have you to say? Are you going to spin more lies?" The king sounded harmlessly curious, but both knew that he was anything but._

 _The pinned man shook his head and tried to calm his racing heart. His eyes were cast to the ground now. "N-no,_ sire _."_

 _"Sir Leon wanted to punish you himself, but he left the decision to me, which was very noble of him. You'll remember to thank him, won't you? For helping you end this habit of lying and stealing?"_

 _A shaky nod._

 _"Good. And surely you know you will be punished, not only for taking food without_ permission, _but also for trying to get away with it. Lying to my face like a coward."_

 _Another nod. He seemed to be shrinking in shame, or fear._

 _"Excellent. Today I think I favor the whip."_

* * *

"I'll speak to him," Arthur said, not feeling up to recounting all the times he'd terrorized and punished Merlin for even considering eating or sleeping. On the way out of his chambers, he approached a guard and quietly told him something, then continued walking with Gaius.


	4. Chapter 4

The walk back to Gaius' chamber was tense, but once inside, it reached a new level of anxiety. Merlin was sitting up on the cot, his right arm in a sling and his torso wrapped securely. He sat up straighter when his liege entered and diverted his gaze. He looked far too thin, too pale, too tired. Arthur stepped closer, and after a moment gathered the nerve to stand a few feet from him.

"Merlin," He started. The other didn't look up. "I know that it'll be difficult, but you should remember that you're safe now. No one will be angry if you sleep."

Now Merlin looked up. He paused a moment in thought. "I know."

"Then why don't you?"

He was struggling to find a way to say it, but it was already a struggle in the first place to speak - he still had this niggling feeling that he was going to be punished any moment for daring to speak, to make eye contact, to be resting. "I know it, but... I suppose it's just hard to believe?"

Arthur was confused. "I don't understand."

The other sat thinking, trying to say what he felt. "I know that it's over, but... I don't know. It was like that for so long, and it's hard to remember what it used to be. I know it's different now, but I don't believe it. Like instinct."

The king still looked confused. The servant tried to think of a specific example.

"Like with your knights. You train them every day, pushing them to their limits, so they're prepared for battle. They've practiced to the point that they know how to react to a blow without losing their footing, while still watching for a hit they can land. It's instinct for them after all that routine. Physical memory. It's like that."

The fog cleared from Arthur's understanding and it seemed to sink in. "Like training." It made sense, thinking about it. Whatever had come over him, whatever evil force had controlled his actions for whatever agenda, certainly seemed to have been training the servant in a way. Training him to be obedient. All those punishments, the supervision, the rules... oh, gods, all the way back at the start...

* * *

 _"Arthur, what's going on?" The jovial light in Merlin's eyes was still_ there, _but now overshadowed by a grim look of startled confusion. "Stop."_

 _The king yanked the servant from where he'd pinned him to the wall and shoved him to the ground. He landed on his hands and knees, then sat up._

 _"Don't move," Arthur ground out. Despite this, Merlin started to get up. But he stopped abruptly when he found a sword to his throat. "I said," Arthur placed his other hand on the servant's shoulder to push him back down to his knees, "don't. Move."_

 _He began pacing around the kneeling man slowly, still holding his sword. Merlin warily watched him right back._

 _"You will no longer respond to me with anything but 'yes,_ sire _' or 'no,_ sire _', unless directed otherwise. Do you understand?"_

 _"I don't know what kind of_ mead _you've been-" Arthur was upon him, pulling his left arm up behind his back as far as it would go, holding him down with all his weight so the servant's chest was against his legs and he was folded. It would make it incredibly hard to breathe._

 _Merlin struggled, either from the pain in his_ arm or _because his breaths were coming too shallow, but Arthur just twisted the arm further. "You have been allowed your petulance for far too long. Now you will be taught proper behavior. Or you will suffer greatly. Now, I asked you a question. Do you understand?"_

 _The servant struggled more._

 _The king sighed. "I am reluctant to break your_ arm, _since that would make it difficult for my orders to be carried out. But the first lesson's always the hardest." He pulled and twisted the arm further. Merlin yelled in pain as the tension grew and it felt like it was about to break._

 _"Okay, okay! STOP! Stop, stop, don't..."_

 _Arthur stopped, knowing too that it was on the verge of snapping. "Do you understand?"_

 _Merlin swallowed thickly. "Yes,_ sire _."_

 _The king smiled and released the servant. He stood back and watched the kneeling man gingerly pulled his arm forward and held it to his chest as his breaths came and went quickly._

 _"You will be on time. You will not make eye contact with your betters. You will address your betters by their title. You will follow commands without question and anticipate my every need. Do you understand?_

 _"Yes,_ sire _." Merlin looked utterly flummoxed._

 _"And never, ever call me by my name again. We are not friends. I am your lord and you are nothing but a lowly servant. You live to serve me. Call me anything but 'sire' or 'my lord' again, and I will cut out your tongue."_

 _At a fierce glare, Merlin dipped his head. "Yes,_ sire _."_

* * *

 _When he tripped on the chain mail left on the floor, the king looked up in ire. Merlin hadn't dropped the platter of food, but it had been close. Arthur stormed over and knocked the plate from his hands before throwing a punch. The servant was on the ground when the next hit landed, and the next. It wasn't loud; Merlin had stopped crying out when hurt a while ago and he knew he deserved the blows. After the beating, Arthur ordered him to stand. Merlin shakily got to his feet and was handed the platter. Arthur placed a large ewer full of water on top. Merlin lifted his other arm to help support the tray, but Arthur pulled it back down._

 _"You will follow me on my rounds. If one drop of water spills, you will be punished. Understand?"_

 _"Yes, sire," The servant responded, already concerned about the weight. And tripping would be a death wish._

 _Halfway through the king's walk through the castle, Merlin let out a small cry of panic as his muscles gave out and his arm dropped. The plate clattered across the stone corridor floor. The_ ewer _rolled lazily in a growing puddle of water._

 _That time, Arthur backhanded him, took him to the cells, and locked him up. He was left in the dark without food or water for three days._

* * *

"I understand," Arthur said quietly.

There was a polite knock on the door and someone called, "Sire?"

"Proceed," The king called. The door opened and three servants entered carrying trays of food. Arthur stood from the trunk by the bed and gestured for the food to be placed there. Merlin stared at him in confusion, but Arthur just thanked the servants and gave them leave to depart. When they were gone, he gestured to the bed. "May I?"

Merlin hesitated, then moved over to make room. Arthur sat down and an awkward moment of tense silence passed.

"You know, I asked the kitchens to make all this food for me, but I'm not that hungry. A lapse of foresight on my part. Is there any way you could help me?"

Merlin was still staring.

Arthur shrugged and took up a fork, starting on the roasted ham. He poured himself a goblet of water - he wasn't planning on drinking wine or mead any time soon - and pushed a pair of utensils to Merlin's side of the ersatz table.

"You want me to eat?"

"Please do, or the cook will spit in my next meal for wasting food. She never liked me."

After a minute, Merlin picked up a fork with the hand that wasn't held to his chest by a sling. He hesitated then, but when Arthur just continued nonchalantly eating, he succumbed to that ever present ache in his gut and picked at the seasoned chunks of potato on a smaller plate. When he took the first bite, the flavor hit him. It was delicious. The immensity of his hunger made itself known as soon as he started, but he restrained himself and calmly took another bite. He finished half of it before he took a break. Arthur had stopped eating and was watching him. Before Merlin could get awkward and apologize or something, Arthur poured another goblet of water and placed it by him, then started on a fresh loaf of bread and some jam. Merlin drank some water, then meekly leaned forward to try some meat. The ham was glazed with something sweet, and Merlin loved it. But just two bites in and he was full. He set down the fork and took another sip of water before leaning back with a small grimace.

"Thank you, Merlin, I think we've made excellent progress on this meal. I am in your debt."

Arthur stood and Merlin moved to arrange and clear the plates, but the king waved him off. He walked to the door and leaned out, calling in the servants from earlier to take what was left over. Before he left, Arthur shot Merlin a little grin, like he thought he was so clever.

Merlin smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

The corridors didn't seem so big and empty anymore. He didn't feel like he was being watched. It was his second week back working, and it wasn't nearly as awkward as he'd thought it'd be. He was still incredibly jumpy and wary, and more quiet than anyone would ever get used to him being, but he was used to it already. Just because he jumped at loud noises and kept aware of where everyone was and if they seemed angry didn't mean that he didn't know he was safe.

Gaius hadn't wanted him to be up and about yet, but it was so unsettling for Merlin to rest so incessantly that he had sheepishly refused to stay in bed one day longer.

Arthur had changed since the curse. He didn't raise his voice even in jest, he never threw things, and he didn't give Merlin chores for the sake of being able to. And he never called Merlin lazy, clumsy, or a servant. At first it seemed like he was just trying to tread lightly in the days after the events they'd been subjected to, but it was becoming clear that he just didn't want to do those things anymore. Any appeal of proving his worth was gone now that he'd spent a year, willing or not, declaring his power and the right to hurt others with it. As time passed, they became a little bit closer, almost friends.

Merlin opened the door without knocking - something he was still getting used to - and ducked in. He knew Arthur was still asleep, but he didn't wake him up by throwing open the curtains and cheering, "Good morning!" like he used to. He placed the king's breakfast on the table and moved to open the curtains slowly. Then, he set about tidying the room a bit. Arthur woke up to the sunlight and low sounds of Merlin moving around. He looked over and said, "Good morning."

Merlin turned and gave a nod. "Good morning." He tipped his head toward the food on the table beside him. "Would you like some breakfast?"

Arthur really didn't feel like getting out from under the warm, heavy crimson blankets. Of course, Merlin already knew that, so he brought over a plate stacked with sausages, fresh bread, eggs, ham, and cheese. While the blonde was eating, the other continued cleaning. He tried not to bend over or move too quickly, and he could only use one arm, but he was doing well.

Arthur watched him a bit sadly.

Merlin turned and saw him looking. "Arthur?"

The king blinked and looked away. "Yes?"

"Another nightmare?"

Arthur shifted wordlessly.

"Sorry," Merlin said quietly.

"What reason could you possibly have to be sorry?" Arthur had been challenging the servant every time he said that. He apologized too much. Merlin shrugged uncomfortably and continued bustling about.

Arthur decided to try something. "Today, George will be assuming your duties. I want you to spend the day on a hunt with the knights."

The servant stiffened, facing away from the king.

Arthur knew what he was asking. Merlin hadn't been able to face Perceval, Gwaine, or Leon since they'd apologized to him after the curse. The servant was impressively close to acting normal, but at the mere mention of the knights, he was back to being shaken. Despite being sure that nothing they had done was worse than the hell he himself had inflicted on Merlin, Arthur understood why it was so hard for him. Facing one of his abusers in a seat of power was trying enough, and on top of that he would have to face a whole group of men who had often caught him on his way to serve his cruel master, mocking him, hurting him. His friends turned torturers.

He knew that the servant was struggling between wanting to question the declaration and a lingering fear that he'd be punished for questioning his liege. Arthur intended to make himself clear. "They'll need an attendant and I've chosen you, that is all. You should go prepare the bags and steeds, you depart at noon."

Merlin hesitated, then nodded and left without a backward glance.

Arthur knew that this would be a difficult day for Merlin, but he was honestly more concerned at present with facing Gaius after sending out his unhealed patient on a hunting trip.


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin never lifted his eyes high enough to meet their occasional anxious glances, but he kept aware of the formation of their horses, lingering at the back of the group to avoid attention. To avoid being surrounded.

Their first stop was in the pursuit of an elk. The knights dismounted their horses, the servant following suit and quickly tethering them to trees and setting the packs on the ground as an ersatz camp. It only took a few minutes of tracking for the knights' lack of interest in the sport to become apparent. They weren't focused. Merlin considered that Arthur may have forced them into this trip as well.

As the servant's mind wandered for a moment, he stepped on a pile of rocks at the edge of the path. He lost his balance on the shifting ground and careened toward the forest floor.

Gwaine spun at the sudden noise and, without thinking, leaped forward to try and catch him. The knight grabbed the servant's arm, but Merlin yanked it away in panic and fell. On the way down his head hit the tree behind him.

 _And as he was forced to his knees on the floor, the knights surrounded him. Percival kicked him in the back. Merlin was knocked forward onto his front by the blow, and the others joined in. They kicked him and laughed at his sounds of pain. A kick met the back of his skull and the downed man yelped, earning a new bout of laughter even as he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the spinning room. He felt one of them grab his side and flip him onto his back. The new pressure on the many forming bruises was quickly multiplied when Gwaine straddled his chest. Tears began to well in the servant's now open eyes as his broken ribs shifted. Agony throughout his body clamored for his attention._

 _Gwaine grinned down at him, long brown hair framing the face that used to light up in joy, not perverse satisfaction at a friend's agony._

 _"Hey there, old pal!" The rogue knight said boisterously. Then he pouted. "Aw, poor thing, he's crying!"_

 _Merlin was. The servant saw the knights around him, laughing at how pathetic he was and visiting more pain upon him, and he felt like his world was burning down. There was so much hatred in their eyes. He was deplorable, weak and small. Merlin felt hot tears streaming down his face and hated himself completely._

 _"Come on, why don't you smile for me, eh? I miss your bright smile." Gwaine ran a hand through the servant's hair and grasped a fistful at the back. Not painfully, but possessively. "Smile for me,_ Merlin _."_

 _The pinned man couldn't do it, he knew he couldn't. He was afraid of being punished, but the anguish crushing his heart overshadowed the desire to obey._

 _The knight cocked his head. "Listen here, mate, if you don't do as I say right now," here his grin faded, "I will cut out your eyes. Maybe then you won't cry so damn much, eh? Now let's see that beautiful smile."_

 _The servant took a shaky breath, looked into his friend's brown eyes, and tried. After a moment, he did smile. It made his skin crawl and fresh tears continued to run down his face, but he did as he was told._

 _Gwaine's face lit up and he released his possessive hold on Merlin's hair. The knight ran his hand through his hair again, looking proud. "Well done, Merlin."_

 _The servant's forced smile faltered. He bit his lip and averted his eyes._

 _"Now, I want tears again."_

 _A new beating began._

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted and rushed to kneel beside his friend, whose eyes were unfocused. The knight touched his shoulder, and Merlin jolted in fear. He looked at the man beside him and whimpered, scrambling away in panic.

"Woah, woah! I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise."

"Please," Merlin muttered. "I'm sorry, please don't..."

Gawain looked to the others with sorrow.

"Merlin, mate, I'm not going to hurt you."

 _"Listen here, mate, if you don't do as I say right now," here his grin faded, "I will cut out your eyes."_

"Come on, you're safe, just, look at me."

 _"Come on, why don't you smile for me, eh?"_

Merlin's eyes were flitting between each knight. It was hard to tell how much he actually saw, let alone heard.

Gwaine held his hands up in surrender. "I won't come closer and I won't touch you. No one is in a rush. Why don't you take a minute to catch your breath there."

Merlin was still afraid, but calmed a bit when he realized that the words were not spoken angrily or mockingly, but with concern and patience. After waiting and finding no one trying to hurt him, he swallowed past the lump in his throat and made himself look at Gwaine.

"I'm sorry I scared you," The knight said softly. "You hit your head when you fell, so it's okay if you're confused."

Merlin licked his lips. "Right." He looked to the ground in thought. "Right. Sorry."

"Do you feel okay?"

Merlin nodded, then winced. "A little dizzy."

"Okay, that's normal. Do you want help getting up? We can make camp a bit ahead, and you can rest."

"Okay."

Gwaine stood and warily moved to his friend's side to offer a hand. Merlin hesitated before accepting with his good arm.

They set up camp a short ways away and soon Merlin was sitting on his bedroll away from the fire.

"Why don't you sit with us where it's warmer?" Leon offered gently, gesturing toward the other knights sitting on logs.

 _His back arched as the white-hot iron seared his flank. He almost choked on the smell of his own sizzling skin. Arthur dropped the iron rod and grabbed the servant's arm, yanking it toward the flames._

 _"One more scream and I'll burn your hand till you're hoarse."_

Merlin shook his head without looking up. "No thank you."

"Do you mind if I sit with you, then?" Leon asked.

Merlin shook his head again. The knight sat an arm's length away and looked up at the stars.

"It's nice to get fresh air and see the stars. I haven't been outside in a year."

Merlin hugged himself absently against the night chill. He debated whether to speak. His quandary made him want to push through it, to make himself talk and be more normal.

"I wasn't allowed outside," He replied.

Leon looked at him, surprised that he'd spoken. He looked back to the night sky and asked, "Did you miss them?" Now they were both looking up at the stars.

"Yes."

Though it was a simple exchange, Merlin felt much more at ease. After hearing how understanding Gwaine was with his onslaught of panic, and knowing Leon was willing to open up about the past year without pressing for assurances of forgiveness, he knew that they were once more his friends. But Percival hadn't even cast him a sidelong glance yet. Though a small voice in his head suggested that the knight might really just hate him, Merlin was sure it was something else. As Gwaine got up to find firewood, Merlin excused himself from Leon's quiet company and ventured to sit by the fire beside Percival.

Three feelings ran through his mind at once. One, he was anxious being so close to the fire. Two, he was doubly nervous sitting by Percival, whose incredible strength had been used against him so often...

 _The hand holding him up by the already bruised throat tightened as the knight snarled, "Arms down!" Against his body's desperate need for oxygen, Merlin lowered his arms from trying to alleviate the grip on his neck. He was thrown into the wall. His gasps and coughs were interrupted when Percival kicked him under the chin, hard. His head snapped back and cracked against the wall, the impact clouding his sight and dragging him into unconsciousness._

Merlin shook his head, trying to forget the flashback. The third feeling was what he had to hold on to. He was proud of himself for pushing, for making himself not only forgive, but also actively reach out.

"It's good that I packed food, we didn't really see any game today," Merlin said lightly.

Percival didn't respond.

The servant shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh, wanted to say I'm sorry."

Percival looked up then, staring at him incredulously. "What? Why?"

Okay, the staring made him feel much more uncomfortable now. "I'm not sure. I'm sorry that you have to feel it, I guess. I mean, you were just as trapped as I was, and you shouldn't feel guilty."

Percival's confusion turned to sorrow and he looked back to the flames. He was quiet for a long time. "I swore to never use my strength to hurt someone. To only do good. After everything I did, everything you suffered..." He shook his head desolately. "I have no right to call myself a knight."

"It's not your fault," Merlin persisted. "I'm the one who got hurt, and I forgive you. It wasn't really you. And you didn't hurt anyone else. Please don't blame yourself, Percival."

The knight was quiet again. "How can I look you in the eye after everything?" He asked softly, sounding defeated.

"It'll take time. For all of us."

Percival nodded. Merlin felt a burden lift from his shoulders as he knew that he hadn't let his fear hold him back from seeing these men as they truly were - not cruel men waiting for a chance to hurt and humiliate him, but friends who felt guilt and worry just like him.

And though he certainly would never admit it aloud, he was grateful to Arthur for making him take that first step.


	7. Chapter 7

Upon return to the castle, the group was growing rather rowdy. Gwaine was telling a bawdy tavern story, occasionally nudging Percival and coaxing a laugh out of him. Leon was watching, laughing along but occasionally scolding them for being too loud. Merlin was at the front of the lot. He dismounted from his steed and rubbed her neck affectionately before leading her to the stables. The sun felt warm on his skin and the breeze ruffled his hair.

Then, Gwaine ruffled his hair. Merlin ducked away and gave a joking, "Hey!" He grinned. "How would you like it if someone messed up your hair?"

While the 'hunting' trip with the knights had been healing, Merlin was overly glad to be home. Fresh air and open space were nice after so long being kept in his place but he was exhausted. When he got to Gaius' chambers, he sat heavily at the table inside and tried to clear his mind. Arthur had promised him a day off upon his return and he had to remind himself that he was not neglecting his duties, he was not doing anything wrong.

He found that the sounds of the room helped ground him. The bubbling of potions, the fire crackling softly, the soft brush of herbs hanging to dry in the window.

The door opened and Merlin smiled upon seeing Gaius walk in.

"Merlin, back so soon! I assume it wasn't a very fruitful hunting trip, then?"

The young warlock raised his eyebrows. "Actually, it was good."

The physician looked surprised. "Well, that's wonderful! And you're looking chipper today."

Merlin ducked his head, ears growing red. "I just missed them."

Gaius nodded, understanding. He moved further inside, but his robes caught on the bench and he knocked into a stack of vials.

"Oh!" The physician cried in surprise. Both men watched the glass fall and shatter, potions and remedies spilling across the floor.

Gaius looked over to see his ward get up and retrieve the mop. The old man grew concerned.

"Merlin?"

"Hmm?" He replied absently as he began sweeping up.

"Why didn't you use magic to stop that glass breaking?"

Merlin froze. He didn't look up. After his pause, he continued cleaning. Not an answer, not even a shrug.

"Merlin, what's wrong?"

He still didn't answer, having finished with the mop and moving to pick up the shards of glass.

"Stop," Gaius said gently and placed his hand on his ward's shoulder. Merlin flinched and dropped the glass. He abandoned his busywork, standing and walking back to the table. With his back turned to his guardian, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his hand resting at the back of his neck. His arm dropped and he finally spoke.

"I stopped using it."

"You what?"

Merlin took a deep breath, staring ahead. "I stopped using my magic. It wasn't safe. It was like he could see me, he _always_ knew when I did something wrong. I was afraid." He said it like a confession.

Gaius felt heartbroken hearing his boy sound so defeated, so worn down.

"But you _are_ magic, Merlin, you can't just stop using it."

"I know. It was hard. And it hurts. Like ice, like I can't breathe." He sighed sadly. The warlock lifted his hand to the center of his chest, like he'd lost something inside. "But I had to."

"Could you use it again after all that time? Do you feel it?" Gaius was desperate to help, to guide his ward back to who he was before. He wanted him to be safe and healthy, but this was new territory.

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know. I can still feel it, almost out of reach, but I don't know what to do." He was afraid, Gaius realized. "I didn't need it because he didn't really leave the castle, and he wasn't in danger, which is all that matters, and without that..."

"You must have considered using magic to protect yourself."

The warlock tensed. "I couldn't hurt them. I couldn't control it if I did that, I might have killed them. I could have killed him."

 _The whip cracked against his flesh, and Merlin jerked. The lashes grew more violent for every time he remained silent. His hands were bound to the bedpost with his neckerchief as he knelt on the hard floor. He turned his face into the smooth sheets to try and keep quiet. He didn't know whether this was a day that screaming was okay or not, but he tried to keep it in. The leather sliced into his back and he felt his magic bubbling below the surface. It was straining for release. It wanted to end the pain, end the person causing it. That's why he shoved it down deeper, out of reach. He could never hurt Arthur. The whip cracked again across his back and his breath caught. No, he would die before he even considered acting against Arthur. So he bottled it all up. When the next lash hit him, Merlin screamed at not only the searing pain tearing his skin, but also the hollow ache of once again crushing his magic._

 _"_ It was for him," Merlin whispered. "He's my destiny. I had to protect him."

"Oh, my boy," Gaius sighed. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to do that."

"Gaius, will I get it back?"

The physician moved closer. "Of course, Merlin, don't you doubt that. You are a creature of magic, it is part of you just as much as your heart. And it is your destiny. You will heal and you will help Arthur do incredible good. It's written in the stars, my boy."

He placed his hand on the warlock's shoulder again. This time, he didn't flinch.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello loves! Thank you for the reviews, they mean the world to me. You are all amazing. Thank you for loving to read this story as much as I love writing it! I just wanted to post a warning here because this chapter is a bit rough for Merlin. There are references to past non/con (not graphic). If you're not okay with that, go ahead and skip to the next chapter, you won't miss too much. Alrighty, on to more hurt/comfort!**

"We have a number of guests arriving today."

"Another treaty?" Merlin asked, pleased at the amount of reparations Arthur had been able to arrange since the end of that year.

Arthur nodded. "It'll be King Lucas and various dukes and earls. They will settle into their quarters and then we will feast in the evening."

"Better not eat too much there or I'll have to let out the waist on these again." The servant held up the trousers he was folding. "Not much material left."

"Haha, very funny. Actually, you'll be tending to some of our guests as is needed, so don't worry about _taking in_ my clothes."

"Taking them _in_? Fat chance!"

"Hey!" Arthur called, but the servant had already grinned peevishly and left the room. He really did have a lot of laundry to do before the guests arrived.

Luckily, by the time of the expected arrival, he'd finished all of it. Merlin had also managed to polish Arthur's armor and check with the kitchen staff to see if they needed any help preparing the food for that night. Now he was headed to to courtyard to stand with Arthur as he greeted the guests.

Rounding a corner, he ran into what appeared to be a stack of folded sheets.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Oh no, oh no," The pile lamented. Merlin paused then laughed lightly as a serving girl appeared from the knocked over pile she'd been carrying.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said kindly as he helped pick up the sheets.

"I'm going to lose my job, this is terrible!" The girl said, distracted.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "I'm supposed to have all the beds made by the time the royal guests are here, and I'll never make it! They've just arrived. Oh, I'm in trouble."

"Don't worry." Merlin lifted half of the sheets off of her pile and gave a charming grin. "We'll do it together!"

Before she could respond, he led the way to the proper chambers. When they made it, he nodded to the left side of the corridor. "You take those, I'll get this side. The comforters and quilts should be folded up by the pillows."

He hurried into the first room. Wishing he could just use his magic but unwilling to test its boundaries yet, he began spreading the sheet. By the time he'd finished that room and the next, he figured he had a few minutes left. A bit more speed and he'd never even be missed at the courtyard greetings.

With a contented sigh at the last room being set to order, Merlin heard the servant girl lean in and say, "Thank you very much! The kitchens owe you a lifetime of treats."

Merlin waved graciously before she left. This was turning out to be a rather lovely day. He smoothed out the last of the wrinkles on the covers. He'd gotten a lot done and made sure everything was in order, as well as helping someone else with _their_ chores. He should ask for a raise, he thought humorously.

The door opened wider and the manservant's brow furrowed. Was the serving girl back for something? He turned around to see.

No.

 _The duke waited for the guards escorting the king's servant to leave before he advanced. "What a sight you are. I was told you were somewhat of a delinquent in your master's care. While I admire that, shall we say,_ spirit _," the noble reached for the servant's cheek, but the young man pulled away. "It is my role now to crush that. And it's not going to be very fun." At this, the nobleman smiled lecherously. "Well, at least, not for you."_

Not him. How could this happen?

 _The duke pinned him to the wall, pulling his right arm up against his back. Merlin cried out and stood on his toes as the pressure grew._

 _"Now, now, just be still. This is going to hurt, and its best to just accept that now before you make me hurt you much, much worse."_

 _The nobleman chuckled and pulled the boy's arm hard. He laughed outright when he heard the bone crack and the servant scream in agony. "Oh, who am I kidding? I'm going to hurt you either way."_

"It's good to see you after so long, boy." The man walked further in. "I was starting to think that your master would never again lend you to me. But here I am. And here you are, in my own chambers no less."

 _"Stop fighting, or I'll break your other arm." The nobleman secured the manacles around his wrists, now bound to the floor. This man had done this before, Merlin thought blearily. His head was shoved against the stone floor from behind, and a weight settled above him. At his suddenly renewed struggles, his head was smashed against the floor until he was still._

"No," Merlin said weakly. "That wasn't him, that wasn't supposed to happen. You shouldn't be here."

"I shouldn't be here?!" The duke rushed forward and grabbed the servant by the shirt, shoving him against the wall. "I am your better, you will watch your tone!"

Merlin closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly. "I'm sorry."

The nobleman gave a crooked smile. "You will be." He stepped back and yanked the servant toward the bed, knocking the younger man's head against the post there. Merlin cried out and brought his hands up to his head, unable to fight the momentum as he was pushed to the ground. Blood dropped from his brow as he went down. He groaned as the sling was torn from his right arm. He was shoved onto his stomach and pinned by the duke.

"Now, I hope that you don't fight this time, because it would be a shame to break this arm again. Then again, I do so miss your screams." Merlin's arms were pulled behind his back, and in the adrenaline rush of panic, the servant began twisting and bucking. Well, trying to - he was much lighter than the man holding him down.

"Oh, there's that fighting spirit I remember! Not that it did much good last time. I'm afraid you're just as weak now." The duke took hold of Merlin's right arm, pulling it up behind his back. Merlin whimpered as the healing bone was strained in the hold. "Are you really going to make me do this? You know what I'm going to do, you know you can't fight me. Say you submit."

Merlin was shaking. "N-no."

The nobleman rolled his eyes. "Maybe I ought to break both for that. Why must you struggle, hmm?"

The servant drew as deep a breath as his position would allow. "I am not yours."

"So you are your own man, is that it? Pride?"

Merlin shook his head. "Loyalty. I am not y-yours." He had to be by Arthur's side. For a year he had not been able to protect him, and now his magic was gone. He had to stay safe for him.

And, if Arthur had allowed the duke to come to Camelot, he must not remember what he'd done, how he'd sent Merlin to him.

 _"I don't think your little_ trip _did much in the way of education if this is how you're behaving."_

 _Merlin was shaking, trying to keep quiet as Arthur took hold of another finger and snapped it. The servant couldn't hold back another yell of pain._

 _"Perhaps I should send you back."_

 _"N-no, sire, please, I'll be good." His breaths came fast as Arthur was about to break the next finger._

 _"It's not a punishment, it's a lesson. As long as you don't fight back, as long as you_ obey _," On the last word he snapped the bone and nodded approvingly at the more contained groan of pain. "You won't_ be _punished. Understand?"_

 _Merlin nodded. "Yes, s-sire. I'm s-sorry."_

 _Arthur sat back, releasing the servant's hand. "Good."_

Arthur didn't deserve to remember that punishment, sending him to this man - it wasn't his fault, anyway. It was fine. Even though his time with the duke was something that still haunted him with night terrors and a near crippling fear of contact with anyone, it was likely that sending him away had hardly been a passing thought to _that_ Arthur.

"How very _noble_ of you, loyal to the master who raises his hand. But how can you serve your king if you're beaten half to death?" The nobleman began to pull the arm farther up the servant's back. Merlin cried out in pain. The duke shoved the servant's head to the ground with his free hand, trying to shut him up, but attention was drawn. A knock sounded at the door.

"Is everything alright, my lord?" A guard asked.

"Yes, quite alright!" The duke called. After a moment, footsteps retreated from the door.

"Watch yourself, boy, or I'll cut out your tongue," The nobleman hissed. Considering the time, he released his hold with a sigh and stood. Merlin gasped as his lungs could expand fully once more. He whimpered as he gingerly pulled his arm to his side with a wince.

"I'm sure I'll see you again before the night's out. Until then, get out of my sight."

Merlin didn't need to be told twice. He got up to his hands and knees, then stood quickly. He was out the door and walking quickly down the corridor before he could be stopped. Heart pounding, he walked and walked, not looking back. He didn't know where he was going, just away. He was fine. Completely fine.

He was far from the man's chambers before he collapsed. The warlock fell to his knees, pressing his hands to his eyes. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

 _"That's it, just relax, don't fight. It's okay, shhh, shhh." The nobleman held him down, kept him quiet._

He had to calm down, it was over. But it wasn't. _He_ was here. No, this was far too much.

 _"What, no more struggle?" Merlin felt the slap and his head was turned with the force, but he was silent._

What was he going to do? Merlin pressed his palms harder against his eyes, as if he could crush the memories plaguing him and go back to normal. Forget everything.

 _The hand ran through his hair and the nobleman said, "You'll be good for me, won't you?"_

He just wanted to be far away, to be alone.

 _"You're pathetic."_

He was pathetic.

 _"Go back to your master, boy, you're worthless to me now."_

He was worthless.

"Merlin?"

The warlock inhaled stiffly, lowering his hands and forcing himself to his feet. He turned to see Gwaine standing there looking concerned. "You alright, mate?"

Merlin nodded wordlessly.

Gwaine stepped closer. "What's wrong?"

Merlin shook his head. He couldn't speak without breaking down.

"Okay. Let's go somewhere." At his look of confusion, the knight just took his hand and led him farther down the corridor, ignoring his friend's flinch.

Gwaine brought them up the tower, to the top of the castle at the lip of the wall where Merlin and Arthur used to stand at times to look out at the kingdom. It was still light outside, and the warmth of day was beginning to blend with the cool of evening. They sat against the wall and looked at the clear sky.

Merlin took a deep breath. He hadn't known how much he'd needed fresh air, outside of those walls.

"Thanks," He said quietly.

"I think we both needed a break," The rogue knight said.

They sat in silence for a while, and Merlin was finally able to think, to push down the memories and focus. He had to go back soon, to attend the feast, standing by Arthur.

The duke would be there. No matter what, he was going to see him again. Next time, he might not get away. What was he going to do?

"I won't ask what's wrong because i know you don't want to say." Gwaine broke the silence. "But I will say that if something is happening, you should tell Arthur. He worries about you and he feels guilty for everything that happened. Don't get me wrong, that's his business and so utterly not your fault or responsibility. But if you're not okay, you can trust him. He wants to help. I fear all I can do is offer to pummel anyone who even looks at you funny."

Merlin smiled, not knowing he could do that again today. "Thank you, Gwaine." He stood, and the knight joined him. Merlin wasn't sure if he could bring himself to tell Arthur, but he did have to go to him either way. He set out for the king's chambers.

Arthur was waiting, ready to change into his formal attire. He didn't comment on Merlin's lateness, he just moved behind the changing screen. Merlin placed the traditional garb over the screen as Arthur tossed over his day clothes.

"Everything alright there, Merlin?" The blonde asked, voice a bit muffled as he pulled on his shirt.

The servant bit the inside of his cheek. What was his answer? "Yeah." No! Ugh.

"You seem a bit distracted, is all."

"Sorry I was late." Yeah, sure, bring that up. Idiot.

"Where were you?" Curiosity, nothing more, Merlin reminded himself. No anger, no manipulation, just his friend wondering where he'd been.

Merlin hesitated. He didn't want to lie. But he _would not_ tell him. How could he? Was he really so weak that he couldn't handle seeing one person he didn't like? What made him think he could disrupt the making of a treaty just so he could feel a little less nervous? Selfish.

But a lie did not come to him. His mind slowed and he could almost feel the flashbacks building up, itching to flood back into the forefront of his mind. He focused on breathing.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, stepping out fully dressed. "What is it?"

"Um," The servant shook his head, staring at the floor. "I don't..."

Arthur placed his hands on his shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong." His voice was calm and sure.

"How do you know something's wrong?" Merlin asked softly, feeling overwhelmed.

"Where's your sling?" The blonde said in answer. "I want to know what's making my friend afraid again," He continued, catching the servant's eyes. "I can help."

Merlin took a shaky breath. "Okay." He stepped back, pulling away from the contact. He averted his eyes. "Do you remember how I broke my arm?"

Arthur looked at Merlin's right arm and tried to remember. "I'm not sure. I didn't..."

"No, you didn't do it. I wasn't... I wasn't quiet enough one day. You were angry. You sent me away for a while."

Arthur vaguely remembered. "Where did I send you?" He asked, afraid of the answer.

"To the Duke of Arcadia."

"Right," Arthur said, thinking. "I remember." He blanched suddenly. "I wrote him a letter. I told him to do his worst." Why had he done that? His worst _what_? "What did he do?"

Arthur knew he'd crossed a line by asking when Merlin curled in on himself a bit. "Sorry. I shouldn't have-" And there it was. "No, wait, I remember." Arthur inhaled sharply as he recalled what he'd thought when he'd written that letter, when he'd sent Merlin to _that._

"He's here," The blonde said, horrified. "I _invited_ him." He was growing livid. "Did he hurt you?"

Merlin didn't answer.

Arthur strode over and grabbed the servant's shoulders. "Did he hurt you?"

Merlin flinched. "Please."

Arthur let go and stormed out. Merlin watched him go, feeling hollow.

When Arthur returned an hour or so later, Merlin was still there, sitting now. He didn't look up when the other man walked in.

"I'm sorry for being angry," Arthur said tiredly. "I didn't mean to grab you."

Merlin nodded, eyes fixed on the floor.

"He's gone. He'll never return to Camelot," The king continued.

"Thanks," The servant muttered.

"Please don't thank me," Arthur asked. Merlin looked up. "I am the one in your debt. You trusted me enough to tell me. That must have taken great effort. And selflessness. You have always done what was best for me and for Camelot. I now know not to trust that swine. You could have just left - you always could have. But you always stay by my side. I don't deserve that loyalty, not with how I've treated you."

Merlin stood and walked over to his friend, placing his hand on the king's shoulder. His right hand. "You are a good man. I'll always be at your side." He smiled and lowered his arm. "Prat."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Two chapters in one day? Yes, that is how much I love the brave souls who shoot this sorry writer a review now and then. Special thanks to M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng and mersan123, you are amazing. This chapter wasn't originally in the lineup, but I'm glad that I get such good feedback! I think we're all wondering what Gaius did during The Year, how Merlin feels about it, and how he feels about his magic. Well, here you go.**

Gaius watched disapprovingly as his ward proceeded to push around the food on his plate distractedly. That boy was a handful sometimes.

"Merlin, what's wrong?"

The young man looked up. "Hmm? Nothing."

"Oh, don't 'nothing' me. You haven't eaten a single bite, and I made your favorite! You really should eat, you know."

Merlin suddenly felt a seed of irrational anger plant itself in his mind. That wasn't fair.

Gaius watched Merlin's expression go from feigning innocence to something akin to annoyance. No, frustration. Merlin almost never looked like that.

"What did I say?" Gaius said in concern, figuring he'd said something insensitive.

But Merlin heard the question as, 'What did I say? Didn't I just tell you to eat? Do it!'

"That's a pretty bold thing to say," Merlin marveled with a colder tone than his guardian had ever heard from him.

"I'm confused," Gaius admitted, studying the young man more closely.

"I should know that I should eat, that's what you said. Right, well, maybe I don't know that. Maybe, for the span of many months, I wasn't _allowed_ to eat. Do you remember that? When you would _laugh_ if I asked for anything for the hunger, or something for the pain? When you would tell Arthur if I took so much as an apple, when you locked me out if I came back too late after doing what he assigned? It doesn't really _feel_ like I should eat. It feels like I should be out serving the king, paying for every mistake I make, practically fearing my own shadow!"

Both men were startled by his outburst. Merlin looked like he hadn't known any of that was in his head, and like he rather wished it had just stayed there. Gaius watched him a moment longer with his signature cocked brow before nodding calmly.

"I see."

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, suddenly much quieter. "You didn't deserve that, I shouldn't-"

Gaius raised his hand and the young warlock stopped fumbling for an explanation.

"I understand. I'm glad that you finally got that off your chest." Merlin seemed to be stricken speechless after his rant. "You think of others far too much, my boy. You mustn't shoulder any guilt for needing time to find yourself."

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, then decided against it and let his eyes fall to the table.

"I just want to be normal again."

"I know," The physician said. "But no one is pressuring you to rush. You have my support and faith. Now, would I like you to eat and have enough fuel to face your day with that very Merlin energy of yours? Of course. But that is up to you when you feel ready. Much to my pride, you are a very capable man now, Merlin. You have control over your life, no one else."

The warlock nodded slowly, taking that in.

"Now, I asked if something was wrong, and I find I am still curious." The quirked brow returned.

Merlin bit his lip. He didn't want to talk really, and Gaius knew that.

"Arthur doesn't need me anymore."

Gaius looked like he was about to challenge him.

"No, I mean it. He didn't need me for a whole year, he was fine. And now, I'm just... I don't have any magic, and I can't fight, and apparently I can't even do my job without getting hurt again. I'm just... weak."

He hadn't wanted to say it, to lay out his fears just for Gaius to say they were foolish and try to change his mind. Merlin knew what he said to be true.

"Well, yes," The physician said simply. Merlin looked up in surprise.

"You agree with me?"

Gaius nodded, thinking. "Yes. Why argue? You seem very sure of it, no need to lie to you. You can't fulfill your destiny as things stand. You are afraid to fail and therefore are more likely to."

Merlin looked downcast.

"And? Are you going to give up that easily? Your destiny fails because you were afraid?"

The young warlock looked at him quizzically. "No."

"Well, what are you going to do? Like you said, you need your magic."

"I'll practice," Merlin said, understanding what Gaius was doing. "I'll work on it, study my book as if it was all new." Now he was speaking more to himself than to the physician, looking toward his room. "If I try to use it again bit by bit, it should just take some time to get back to what it was."

"Or stronger," Gaius agreed. "Not unlike reconstituting muscle after extensive bed rest."

Merlin grinned at the old man's genius. Was that all, Gaius just applied a theory from his work as a healer? He had missed his wisdom at times like this.

"I'll start right now," The warlock said, heading toward his room.

"That's the Merlin I know," Gaius said proudly, seeing the young man's well hidden despair being replaced with hope and determination.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This chapter turned out nice and tidy - which is good, because I trudged through some persistent writer's block to get it out! Reviewer parimalik totally helped me hone the framework for it. Now that is why I love requests and feedback! I love you guys. Huge thanks to M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng and Otter for truly inspiringly positive reviews! And 1917farmgirl always keeps me going. Thank you, all. Now, on to some PTSD and knights trying to help!**

"Oh!"

Merlin hardly cried out in surprise before the platter in his hands was knocked free and it crashed to the floor along with Arthur's lunch. Merlin shrank in on himself a little at the ringing sound and stared helplessly at the mess that set back his work by a half hour. His skin crawled as he couldn't shake free the sudden overwhelming fear of punishment.

Gwaine frowned when he saw what he'd done. He'd been in the middle of what he deemed a hilarious joke, walking alongside a silent Percival and a nonplussed Leon. He hadn't been paying attention as he'd left the stairwell and promptly run into Merlin. Now he watched the servant recoil and get lost in his worry.

"You okay, mate?"

Merlin blinked and looked up. He exhaled sharply and nodded. Gwaine watched him clench a fist at his side as he tried to regain control.

"Yeah." His voice was tight with annoyance. Knowing how selfless Merlin was, he knew that the servant wasn't angry at the knight's - he was mad at himself for his reaction to dropping the tray. Gwaine looked down at the mess as Merlin stopped to clean it up, replaying the servant's flinch in his mind. It was the sound that had made him react like that.

By the time Merlin was upright once more, he was wearing a self-deprecating smile. "Clumsy."

For some reason, hearing him say it so casually made Gwaine feel a bit flustered. Clumsy? Merlin may have been clumsy, once, but that was certainly no longer the case. Gwaine remembered how hard Merlin had pushed himself to move deliberately, even gracefully, after countless beatings and punishments for every little slip up. And now Merlin was taking on the harsh words that had been thrown at him, for the sake of humility? The man was still suffering the effects of that year, and he thought he was _weak?_ No, that just wasn't fair.

Why, Gwaine just had to fix this somehow.

"Oí, you're coming with us." He took the platter from Merlin's hands and handed it to Leon, who looked like he couldn't be bothered trying to decipher that idiot's plan, and Gwaine took Merlin's arm, pulling him toward the armory down the corridor. Merlin went along with it, glancing back at the others who followed with just as much curiosity written across their features.

When they'd made it to the armory, Gwaine proceeded to pick up every sword and shield within reach, as well as grabbing all of the armor left out from recent sparring sessions. Merlin watched curiously. Soon, the rogue knight had a pile of metal gear stacked in his arms precariously.

"Aren't you wondering what I'm doing?"

Merlin blinked and was about to confirm that he was indeed curious, but he instead tensed and his expression went blank when Gwaine let a plate of armor clatter to the floor.

" _That's_ why - what, don't look at me like that, Percy - why we're here. You want to stop flinching when you hear that sound. I think you just need some practice."

The servant hesitated, then smiled. "Okay."

Gwaine grinned. "Right! So... hold on, this is downright uncomfortable, let me just-" He shifted his grip on the pile and gave a bit of a hop to rearrange the lot. Two dull swords clanged to the floor noisily and Merlin watched them clatter with annoyance. He'd still jumped even though he'd known it would happen.

"Careful," Leon scolded, glancing at the door.

"Oh, hush," Gwaine parried. "Here, Merlin, why don't you come take just the armor off my hands, huh? Just realized you'll have to repair it if it gets dented." Merlin grunted in agreement, almost grumbling aloud that any of this gear getting dented would result in more work for him, but the armor really would take much longer, so he moved forward. As he was carefully about to lift the pieces of armor from the pile, Gwaine stepped back quickly, causing those pieces to clamor to the ground. Merlin yelped and his eyes widened. Now his heart was racing not only from the sound, but also the instinct that he'd messed something up and it would result in more work, work he wouldn't be able to finish in time, and-

Gwaine was watching him. Merlin took a deep breath. "I'm okay."

The knight nodded. While maintaining eye contact, he dropped a shield. The servant wasn't sure whether it was the fact that the thing wasn't too loud since it was made of wood or if maybe he was getting used to this, but he didn't flinch. He dug his nails into his palms and felt uneasy, but he didn't move away. He nodded and Gwaine dropped a helmet. No flinch.

"Okay, now you try," The rogue knight encouraged, hiking up the stack of gear in gesture for Merlin to pick something up. Merlin chose a practice sword (which seemed to have been jabbing his friend in the side). After a moment, he let it fall from his hands. It felt strange.

" _Throw_ the next one, no need to be such a maiden about it!"

Merlin chuckled, knowing Leon must be rolling his eyes at the knight's childish enjoyment of disrespecting royal property. The servant selected a gauntlet. Reeling his arm back, he laughed at the mock cheering from Gwaine and Percival and the shushing of Leon just before he chucked the piece of armor at the wall. He huffed, expelling a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Perceval clapped heartily and Gwaine hollered his support in a series of whoops. "Come on, throw it like you mean it!"

Merlin took hold of the largest thing left, a metal shield adorning the Pendragon crest. He almost hesitated.

"Go on, throw it! The princess won't mind."

The warlock nodded, looking up to match the knight's mischievous grin. He took a few steps back, then mocked, "I throw like a girl, do I?" before tossing the shield at the rouge knight. Gwaine cried, "Woah!" and stumbled back comically as the rest of the gear tumbled from his arms to the ground. The ensuing cacophony was hardly the center of attention as the knight half-heartedly chased Merlin around the mess, tripping over everything as the servant dodged each lunge.

The door to the armory opened and the king stepped inside. He did not look impressed at the hectic scene before him.

"It wasn't my idea," Leon said, standing by the door but looking like he was barely reigning in his amusement.

"What are all of the royal armor and weapons meant to be doing on the floor?"

"We were, errr... practicing. For battle." Gwaine supplied.

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned to leave. "Right. Well then, I expect that you all proceed to practice polishing it all."

Gwaine and Merlin matched put-out looks and replied in unison. "Prat."

Arthur cocked a brow and turned to leave. "I look forward to being served my dinner by the _both_ of you within the hour."

Gwaine gave an indignant grunt as the king left. When he was gone, Merlin and the knights laughed.

"Really, though, mate," Gwaine said, finding a rare moment of gravity. "If you ever need help, we're here for you. We, I-" He paused. "I'll never hurt you. Not again." It was hard for the man to talk about it directly, the servant could see that. "We want you to feel safe. And we don't want you to get cross with yourself just because you still get startled sometimes. You're not weak."

Merlin watched the knight's face, wanting to believe him. Gwaine was a good man. Leon and Percival were, too. He was lucky to have such patient and dedicated friends. Even though he'd already known that they didn't think he was weak, he had needed to hear it, to see it clearly and put to rest the doubts that clouded his mind. Their clear need for him to know they'd never hurt him made Merlin feel infinitely more safe. The warlock clasped the knight's shoulder in camaraderie. "Thank you."


	11. Chapter 11

"Do you prefer red or red today?" Merlin asked jokingly as he selected the king's outfit for the day.

Arthur was preoccupied, though, standing at his desk and flipping through the papers there. His brow furrowed and he sat down to read more in depth.

"Everything okay?" The servant asked, going on to select trousers.

"Hmm," Arthur replied noncommittally as he lifted a report. After scanning it, he looked up. "Did you do this?"

Merlin looked up, suddenly anxious. What had he done?

Arthur waved the report to indicate it. "I don't remember doing any paperwork when I was... you know. I don't think I went to nearly as many meetings as is necessary. How is this all in order?"

"Oh," The servant relaxed. "Right. Um, I knew you weren't doing any of that. I couldn't say it," he almost shivered at the thought to challenging _that_ Arthur, "but I knew Camelot was going to suffer. So I did your reports. And sent some official writs in your name. And I might have lowered taxes." His voice was small by the end of his explanation. He'd broken a good lot of laws by doing what he'd done, and he suddenly felt anxious again just recalling all the times he'd snuck in to do it.

 _Arthur was reluctantly greeting a royal guest in the courtyard. He would likely be busy with formalities for about an hour before he would look for his manservant. Hoping that the guests were on time and sufficiently distracting for the king, Merlin ducked into the king's chambers. He rushed across the room and stood behind the desk. He daren't pull out the chair or touch anything he didn't have to. With shaking hands and breath held, he began carding through the important papers on the desk. He began by skimming reports written by patrol guards, noting that there was nothing new or dangerous in the woods surrounding the castle and nearby towns. Good. But the next set of reports described a blight wreaking havoc on food stores in a major agricultural province. Merlin frowned. Well, if he allocated resources from the guards in the nearest large village, they could clear the diseased crops and save a large amount of what was needed for winter. And allowing a dozen trusted hunters to venture onto the king's hunting grounds could make up the difference, even boost trade and bring in more merchants for the meat. Yes, that would work. But the order needed to be sent immediately. Considering the repercussions, Merlin almost abandoned the whole thing. But that was a lot of lives to give up on so selfishly. They would starve. And he knew hunger well. No, he had to follow through, he decided. He wrote the order, signing as the king's scribe, and applied the royal seal. There, a crime warranting execution. With an uncertain smile at the deed done, he rearranged things to their original state and left quickly, off to find a carrier to ride the order out to the province in time._

"It's amazing!" Arthur shook his head. "Camelot hasn't seen this kind of wealth and peace in... ever. I can't believe it."

Merlin blinked. He wasn't in trouble.

"How'd you do it?"

The servant shrugged. "I don't know."

Arthur smiled in wonderment. Merlin's head dipped modestly.

"Thank you for keeping an eye on her for me. It means more than you know."

"Sorry I, you know, broke the law to do it."

The king waved his hand dismissively and set down the parchment. "Merlin, its high time I appoint you as my court advisor. All these years you've given wise advice, and every time I ignored it, something went wrong. This proves that you deserve a position with much more of a say."

Merlin was staring in disbelief. "What?"

"Merlin, you're blushing, stop. Just make sure you're sat at my side in the next meeting, not standing with the servants."

Merlin grinned his outrageous grin.

"Oh, don't make me regret it with that crazy look."

* * *

 _"Did you finish your chores?"_

 _Merlin nodded. "Yes sire." He'd been trying very hard today to be good, to get everything done and even a little extra. He wanted to impress Arthur, to show him that he cared. Because he didn't want to be lazy and ungrateful like Arthur always said he was. He wanted to be forgiven for everything he did wrong._

 _The king strode forward. "Really?" He placed a hand at the nape of the servant's neck, holding him in place. "You did everything?"_

 _"Y-yes, sire."_

 _For a moment, he wasn't sure whether his master was going to hit him. Then, Arthur's face broke into a smile and his grip gave a reassuring squeeze. "Good job."_

 _Merlin's stomach did a flip. Arthur was proud of him!_

 _"Would you like to eat now?"_

 _The servant nodded quickly, too overjoyed to speak. Arthur led him over to the table and guided him to a seat. He was going to eat at the king's table - this was happening._

Merlin lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was trying to sleep but he just kept thinking about the times that Arthur _hadn't_ punished him. When he'd been _rewarded_ and it had felt _so good_ to be forgiven.

 _The king was drinking again. Merlin couldn't help jumping a bit when the goblet hit the table. Arthur's cheeks were ruddy and his gaze not as sharp as would befit the first knight of Camelot._

 _Merlin watched Arthur, who was staring off toward the hearth._

 _"More," The king said. The servant hurried to refill the goblet, then step back out of focus._

 _The blonde sighed. Merlin noticed with shock that his hand was shaking. "You're a good man, Merlin."_

 _The servant had no idea what to say to that._

Merlin pressed his palms to his temples with a groan. He almost wanted to believe that _that_ Arthur had been good sometimes, trying to make him smile or calm down. At the thought, the warlock lowered his arms back to the bed and his brow furrowed. Actually, if something had been controlling the king, why would it have him drink wine? Wouldn't that affect its focus, or its grasp on his mind, or something? Why would it need that? And why wasn't he always cruel?

Why had Arthur's hands been shaking that night?

He felt like he was missing something. Before it could consume his mind and render him restless any longer, Merlin got up from the bed and headed for the door. He had to know.

Arthur was asleep. Merlin almost left the room when he saw the king in bed, realizing how selfish it would be to wake him for no good reason. But, with a glance around the room, memories pressing at his mind, he knew he had to ask.

The warlock moved farther into the room. He was glad that the hearth was no longer lit. The room was cool and dark. He approached the bed, standing an arm's length away from the sleeping monarch.

"Arthur?" He practically whispered. No response, of course. He almost decided to leave. No, he was going to do this. "Arthur," He said louder.

The blonde shifted with a soft groan.

"Arthur."

The king inhaled deeply, his eyes squeezing shut tighter. "What?" His sleep-muddled voice filled the room's silence.

"Wake up."

"Why?" He grumbled. "'S not morning."

"I know. I have a question."

"Merlin, go away."

"Please?"

Arthur fell silent at that. He brought up his arms and wiped the sleep from his eyes before opening them. Dragging himself up and squinting in the dark, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Merlin fumbled with the question. What was wrong?

"I was thinking," Yeah, great start. Stupid. "Uh, I couldn't sleep, and i kept thinking about... before. Like when you would drink."

"When I would drink?"

"Yeah. Right, why? Why would you drink, if something was controlling you?"

"You're not making sense."

"Sorry," He apologized reflexively, suddenly embarrassed for bothering the king. "I know." He was growing frustrated, especially with his own logic.

Arthur saw the servant getting anxious and his gaze softened a bit. "Just tell me what you're thinking."

Merlin sighed. "Okay. So, something was controlling you for a year. Maybe it wanted your power or influence. It would have been in your mind to control your actions. But you drank sometimes, until you passed out. Why would this possessor make you do that? Wouldn't that make you harder to control?"

Arthur looked startled. "You're right." He looked to the blankets in his lap. "I'm trying to remember..." After a minute, he grunted in thought. "I remember wanting to see you suffer. Usually it was like I wanted to hurt you, it felt so amazing to see-" He cut himself off in disgust. "But sometimes, I almost... woke up, realized that it was _you_ and I didn't want to hurt you. Then it was like I was dragged back under." Arthur looked like his own words confused him.

"Oh," Merlin muttered.

"What does that mean?" The blonde asked.

"I think... I don't know, Gaius would have a better guess. But I think that you were regaining some control at times, and the only way for it to suppress that was to burden your mind by drinking."

"That's... I see."

Merlin was quiet a moment, staring at the floor. "I think you wanted to help sometimes, and it twisted your intentions to be manipulative. All it wanted was to make us suffer."

"Us?"

Merlin nodded. "Well, you and the knights did suffer too. You all lost control, hurt someone without meaning to. You almost hurt the kingdom, too. You're all men of honor. Someone knew that that would be a terrible thing for you to endure."

"But it focused on you. I can't imagine why, you're just a servant."

"Maybe it didn't. Maybe it just delivered upon us our worst fears."

"Hmm," Arthur took all of this in with horror. "What was it?"

"I don't know," Merlin shuddered involuntarily. "We may never know."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: An update! I've been working on the next few chapters for a while now. Just moved all of it from paper to typed files. Thank you to everyone who reviewed in the meantime, it means the world to me. Get ready for some hefty updates, loves!**

"You sure you don't need any help with that? I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be darker and smell of lavender. It's sort of yellow and smells like-"

"I seem to recall quite a few more decades of experience with tinctures than you've spent alive, Merlin. Now go get Arthur ready for his meeting before you hassle me to death."

"Alright, alright!" Merlin grinned energetically and left. Gaius shook his head and continued his work. He only realized the boy had been right when his concoction gave an unpleasant belch and a cloud of putrid smoke billowed into his face.

"Already up?" Merlin huffed and set about picking up stray items around the king's chambers. Arthur was standing by the hearth and staring at the flames. Perhaps he was collecting himself before the council meeting, it was meant to be an important one after all. Merlin continued bustling about. "Would you like breakfast today? I didn't get it before coming in in case you didn't. You know, big meeting this morning, sometimes you eat a lot while you're thinking, and sometimes you're rather too nervous to eat a bite. Well, not nervous. I suppose it's more like focus. So, what kind of day is it? Food or no food?"

Arthur was uncharacteristically quiet at the end of his babbling.

"Perhaps you have a headache? Too much focus can do that." The servant walked over to the hearth. "Do you have a headache? Maybe you're sick." He reached over to feel the other's forehead, checking for a hint of fever. Before he even made contact, Arthur's hand shot up and grabbed his wrist, eyes still locked on the fire. Merlin tried to pull his arm back, his lighthearted expression now unsure. The grip was not released.

"Arthur?" He asked quietly.

The other man turned to look at him. After staring for a moment, the king grabbed the wrist with his other hand as well and, in a flash of action, spun toward the wall. He used his strength and the momentum to throw the servant into the unforgiving stone. Merlin's head met the wall with a crack and he slid to the floor with a groan. He looked up at Arthur in shock, one hand going to the gash at his temple.

"What are you doing?" The servant's voice was hushed with fear.

"I want you to stop talking. Can you manage that?" He said apathetically.

Merlin nodded, eyes wide.

Arthur walked away, picking up the clothing that had just been laid out for him and going behind the changing screen. Merlin watched him, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check, before getting up. He surreptitiously wiped away the blood with his sleeve and haltingly moved to straighten the linens on the royal bed. He didn't think he could even replay in his head what had just happened if he was going to keep his composure.

"What makes you think that you can show up _late_ and not even bring my breakfast?" Arthur asked coolly, still changing.

Merlin's hands were nearly trembling too much to straighten the sheets. "I-I was trying to help."

Now Arthur came out dresses, walking toward the servant, who did not dare turn around to see him.

"And it's someone like _you_ ," Arthur's hand rested on the frozen man's shoulder, "who has the _capacity_ to predict the needs of a _king_?" His grip tightened threateningly, just enough to make his point.

Head shaking no, the servant answered promptly. "I'm sorry, sire, I can go get-"

Arthur pulled him close with his hold and moved his arm to drape over the shoulder and his torso, holding him in place. .When he spoke, it was right by the tense servant's ear. "No, you're not going to leave and waste even more of my time. You're going to stay right here, washing the floors, polishing the wood, and replacing the bedclothes. I want it all done by the time I return. Is that clear?"

Merlin took in a shaky breath. "Yes sire."

Arthur shoved him away and turned to leave.

As soon as the king was gone, Merlin sank to the ground. His mind was blank, his limbs heavy like lead. No, don't dwell on it for a second, his mind scolded. Just work. He forced himself up on shaky legs to begin his tasks.

He was only halfway finished scrubbing the floor before Arthur returned. His heart leaped into his throat, and the look on the king's face made his blood run cold. On his hands and knees, he thought with a jolt, he'd be easy to kick. The servant scrambled to his feet before the king crossed the room. Arthur punched him square in the jaw and Merlin stumbled back. The next punch met his gut and the servant wheezed, doubling over. Arthur kneed him hard in the face and watched him collapse against the wardrobe, one hand gingerly going to his possibly broken nose, which was bleeding heavily. Arthur knelt to face him with a disinterested sigh.

"Are you finished your chores? Your very very few, very simple chores?"

Merlin shook his head. Almost belatedly, he choked out, "No, sire."

"Then you disobeyed me."

The servant couldn't stop the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "Yes, sire."

The king appraised him for a minute before grabbing the servant's chin. He turned his head this way and that, releasing his grip once he seemed to come to a decision. He nodded to the bleeding nose, which would surely leave some nasty bruises, and then stood. "I reckon you've learned your lesson. Isn't that right?"

Merlin nodded fervently, ignoring the pain it caused his pounding head. "Yes, sire."

Arthur waved his hand in dismissal. "Your services are not required for now. I expect to see you on time tomorrow, _with_ food."

Merlin nodded once more, overwhelmed with relief.

He held himself together until he got to the door to his and Gaius' quarters. Before he could steel himself to enter, the door opened and Gwaine walked out.

The knight's cheery countenance as he thanked Gaius for whatever salve or wrapping he'd been given turned deadly serious at the sight of Merlin's face.

"What happened?" He asked lowly, bristling.

The servant avoided eye contact, certain that Gwaine was enchanted once more as well and that he was angry at him.

"I… sort of fell down the stairs and ran into a wall."

Gwaine was silent for a few seconds. Then, he burst out laughing. "Now that's the Merlin we all know and love! Oh, I can't believe I missed it. I'm sure it was hilarious!" He clapped Merlin on the back in good nature and left chuckling. The servant watched him go, confused.

"Come in, my boy, let me see that nose."

Gaius wasn't angry either. That meant… that meant that only Arthur was…

The young warlock let his guardian guide him to the cot in the center of the room. As soon as the physician sat him down, Gaius looked concerned. Merlin was avoiding eye contact and shied away from touch. Gaius wet a cloth and handed it to him, watching as the younger man tenderly washed the dried blood from around his swelling nose.

"Are you going to tell me what really happened?"

The young man continued his ministrations, lowering his arm when he finished. He bit his lip.

"I'm not sure," Merlin admitted softly. "What happened, I mean. I think-" He shook his head and pressed a palm to his forehead, elbow resting on his knee. He looked defeated.

"Merlin," Gaius said cautiously, "did someone hurt you?"

The warlock curled in on himself a bit more. He startled when the physician took hold of his left hand and unfurled the fist, revealing cuts where Merlin's nails had been digging into his palm. The warlock pulled away and stood up.

"It's Arthur. He - he's…" He took a steadying breath. "He's angry again. Like before. It's happening again." He wrapped his arms around himself like he was about to fall apart.

"What do you mean? You're sure it's the same? Just Arthur?"

Merlin nodded mutely.

"We must alert the guards, have him secured in the dungeons until-"

"No!" The warlock cut him off. "We can't. It's different this time, there's a reason it's just him. He's in danger."

"My boy, you're in danger! It's a miracle that all you have is a broken nose. What if he'd done more? What if he'd killed you?"

Merlin shook his head. "I can handle it. Don't you see what could happen? Arthur, cruel and unable to lead once more, but everyone else is normal? What will the people do? What will the knights do? They'll kill him!"

Gaius blinked, taken aback. "You can't think that. We must try to explain it to them, get him under control until we find a solution."

Merlin turned away and ran a hand through his hair. "Like Gwaine would hear anything past 'Arthur's hurting me again'? You _don't understand._ " He was growing frustrated. "We have to _protect_ him."

"How can we do that without letting him near you?"

"We can't!" Merlin threw his hands in the air in exasperation and spun to face his guardian. "The only way to keep things from falling apart is to keep everyone happy. Work alongside Arthur, do his work when he's away from his papers, lie to the knights. I'll keep everything in order. You have to find out what's controlling him and stop it before-" He cut himself off, eyes flickering to the physician's. "Stop it in time."

Gaius shook his head in wonderment. "How are you so brave?"

Merlin gave a lopsided shrug. "It'll be easier this time. I have you."

"And I don't want to lose you, Merlin." The old man sighed. "At least let me check that cut on your head. If you're going to go to work with a concussion, it'll have to be over my dead body."

 **A/N: Wow! Poor baby. What the** ** _hell_** **is going on? We** ** _finally_** **get to see in the next chapter. Poor, poor Merlin. What do you think of this turn of events? Do you hate me? Do you hate the evil son of a bitch doing this to the boys? Are you itching to know what happens next?**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Hope I succeed in answering some of your questions here.**

 **A/N (edit): Sorry for any confusion! This chapter is a bit of a flash forward. Merlin doesn't revert to being broken down that quickly, I just wanted to let y'all finally know who's behind the curse. Next chapter, we get to see Merlin the day after Arthur is made "evil" again. Got a bit ahead of myself there!**

Morgana focused inwardly as she honed the spell. It took a great amount of skill and attention just to maintain the spell she'd cast. Before, she'd been strong enough to control a dozen men and cast a perception filter on the rest of the castle as a precaution against anyone helping that damned servant. But a year of such rigorous work had worn her thin, and now it was all she could do to keep a hold on Arthur's mind. Even a perception filter would not hold up this time.

But all was well, just as the witch had predicted. Knowing how intensive and straining a year-long spell would be, she'd been careful to make Arthur and the knights condition the servant, beat him into submission and crush any future chance of rebellion. Now that she could only control Arthur, Merlin was basically holding himself victim to the abuse by not telling the others and by hiding the evidence. She didn't need multiple curses and a perception filter to break down her enemy now. That infernal Merlin was so close to breaking.

He'd betrayed her. Her fists clenched at the memory, and she forced herself once more to focus on restraining Arthur's mind. Merlin had betrayed her, tried to kill her, and all the while given her those knowing looks when he saw through her innocent act, toward the end. He was too aware, and he always seemed to be there to protect Arthur. Yes, she knew that he was the reason the king was alive. She wasn't sure how the scrawny mutt held any capacity to protect a warrior, but she wasn't so remiss as to ignore all the coincidences. In all reality, any future plans would fail if Merlin was there to advise Arthur. And since the servant had personally betrayed Morgana time and time again, and if the brat was so loyal to her traitorous brother, well, he deserved every bit of revenge she could manage to deal out.

She could see it all, too. The payoff of the difficulty of the spell was that she had total control, she could see and hear everything as she manipulated her pawn. Sure, Arthur tried to fight back, the bit of consciousness that was trapped beneath her hold, but she kept him in check. He didn't know who held him captive in his own mind, but he did so love to threaten the mystery manipulator with every pain imaginable. It amused her to hear his thoughts grow more desperate as she guided him to torture his friend. The torture was two-fold, then, and all the more delicious for it.

She recognized that the only fault in her current plan was a certain nosy physician. Yes, Gaius was asking questions and likely helping Merlin recover between injuries. Well, that just wouldn't do. She made Arthur order the guards to lock the old man up. There, easy as that. Now, she could get back to her favorite pastime, making the servant cry.

It was a special treat in the midst of all her work. Bringing the bastard pain was enjoyable, but he often held back his reactions or gave just enough to satisfy his tormentor, choking out the ordered phrases and giving in too soon. But if she dealt enough pain or managed to drive his mind into all-consuming terror, he would cry. No more were his entreaties and surrenders for the sake of survival - he was driven by fear alone and it was fantastic. Like a mentor inspiring a bard to perform with emotional integrity, she broke the boy down until he was a mess of tears and labored breathing. Moments like that made it all worth it.

Sometimes, though, his mind was too guarded to succumb to such manipulation. In the face of this inadvertent resistance, she put work into giving him fears. Conditioning led to his fear of loud sounds (especially as a result of dropping something), sleeping, eating, and small spaces. In such a manner, she had complete control over his actions and could guide his behavior with some key threats. Any time she felt like breaking him further, she guided Arthur to take him to the box.

It was what she was doing at the moment, in fact.

* * *

"Get in."

Merlin nodded, his breath hitching. His skin was crawling and each breath was a struggle. Arthur had ordered this box to be made as a punishment for him. It was solid wood on all sides but one, over which a metal grate would be placed and secured once he had crawled inside. It was just big enough for him if he kept small, but there was no way to turn around or move more than an inch in any direction.

Arthur was growing impatient behind him, Merlin was sure. With a start of motion, he leaned forward and placed a trembling hand inside. Then he froze up. His breaths came shorter and shorter each time he tried to move further. He was rocking back and forth a bit, closer to enclosure and back to safety, and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Oh," He breathed weakly, uncertainty escaping in mutterings. "O-okay... okay, okay..." He was almost in, then almost pulling back out. Finally, he succeeded and crawled inside with a whimper. As soon as he was in, he heard iron clanking as the grate was moved and secured into place. Already, his gasps were more fervent and coughs began to wrack his frame. He could barely curl up any tighter as his body fought the panic flooding his mind. His gags and dry heaves echoed in the small space.

"Merlin, you hear me?" Only sniffles. "Can you hear me in there?"

Desperate to obey his king above all else, Merlin choked on his coughs trying to reply. His hyperventilating grew worse.

"I want you to gain composure and answer 'yes, sire'. Merlin, do you hear me?"

The body inside twisted as the servant gasped wetly. "Ye-y-yes, y-es s-sire."

"I'm going to leave you in here for a little while-"

The gasps became more desperate at this.

"And I want you to work on your breathing."

It looked like the cramped body was convulsing as the servant continued to draw wheezing breaths.

"Take long, deep breaths. Because right now, the box is open. And I want you to get used to it before I put the cover on and-"

"C-cover? You, w-wait," Merlin panted.

"So you should probably work on your breathing,"

"Cover? C-cov-" His voice rose in pitch and the shuddering jerks of his body failing to breathe doubled.

"Right now, there's a lot more air going in."

Merlin was coughing and crying, spluttering broken phrases. He heard Arthur step back and, at the thought of him leaving, cried aloud as sobs wracked his body.

"Long... slow... deep... breaths."

Each wheeze was a bit more spread out now, a whimper escaping between each pulse of the lungs as Merlin made himself obey. Each inhale was halting and each exhale was a low, trapped, "Ooh-ooh, gah, ooh."

"Sounds better already, keep going."

The slowed breaths were helping, and Merlin was not ashamed to utter low sounds of emotion throughout the painstaking ritual of measuring each breath.

"Feel all that air getting in now? There it is."

Another moment of whines and moans, punctuated by regimented deep breaths, and then a small, "Th-thank you, thank you, mm-than-, thank-k you, thank yo-o-ou," fading into murmurs.

"Take all the time you need."

"Mm," The sound escaped traitorously on a sigh.

"When you're ready, we'll put the cover on."

A small sob made Merlin's shoulders tense firmly, but other than that he stayed calm. He shifted a little, no longer focusing on his breaths. "Ah, ah, o-okay," He panted softly. "Ok-kay, okay, okay... o-okay... okay. Okay, okay, o-" He gasped, his breaths still coming unevenly. "Okay. Uh, okay." Wheeze. "Okay." Wheeze. His shoulders were drawn back and in, moving animatedly with each painful breath. "Okay. Okay. Let's..." Sniffle. "Let's d- let's do this." The next breath was a relief as he'd finally been able to move on.

There was silence and stillness for a moment. Then, clinking as the fastenings were undone and the grate was removed. The servant's feet inched back tentatively. Upon finding nothing but open air, Merlin made a sound of surprise and scooted backward. Once he was out, sitting on the ground and looking flushed, he looked up to his king standing above him.

"You did good."

Merlin's eyes were wide. "Thank you, sire."

* * *

Hmm. Comforting the boy? That was not the outcome she was looking for. She didn't want Arthur to reward him for good behavior, she wanted to punish him no matter whether the boy obeyed or not. How curious. Her spell was holding strong, yet this unexpected outcome manifested. She'd have Arthur leave Merlin alone in the box overnight and see what happened the next day. Maybe if she controlled Arthur's actions the next day less strictly, she'd see where this was going.

* * *

This time, Merlin had been backed into his box so he was facing the secured grate. He was securing his hands to the grate with a set of manacles as instructed. When he'd done all he could, fastening then tightly, the king finished the job and then reached for a skin of water. It was held to the servant's lips. Merlin drank gratefully, looking up every few seconds. He pulled away after several gulps to take in air with a moan and a cough. Arthur waited. Merlin's face was pressed against the bars at the temple, and his eyes were locked on the skin.

"C-can, can I have..." His breaths came short and weak. "Can I have some... can I have some... m-more please?" He looked up with pleading eyes.

"Mmhmm," Arthur held up the water skin again and allowed the servant to finish the contents. "Yes you may."

When the skin was emptied, Arthur moved to place it by the door. Clanging echoed as Merlin's hands twisted unconsciously. The manacles were so tight and the metal bit into his wrists. At the sound, Arthur returned and knelt to unlock them. Merlin watched mutely.

"You shouldn't see the box as a scary place. It's really more of a safe place. Like a home." Merlin continued to watch, looking up a few times with wide eyes. He winced as the iron cuffs were adjusted. "Someplace you can go and be safe from the world. When it's nice and dark and quiet in there, it's your own place. It's wonderful. Don't you think?"

Merlin nodded. Arthur was done removing the manacles now, and he was looking in at those wide, wet eyes.

"Y-y-yes, sire."

* * *

Ah. The sorceress smiled cruelly. Arthur hadn't been fighting her control, just twisting the servant's mind a bit more. Very well. Still, a bit unsure of this individual choice, she'd reinforce her hold on his mind and guide his actions with more attention after this.

* * *

 **A/N: Morgana! She's** ** _so_** **bitter. I initially wasn't going to make Morgana the big bad (she's kind of annoying as a villain, I wanted to make my own iconic bad guy or thing) but I think the M.O. really fits her. This is totally up her alley. Oh, poor Merlin. I just wrote this chapter an hour ago. So, the box scenes came from a very specific source of media and if anyone wants to see it, PM me and I'll send you a link. It's NSFW but I felt like the dialogue and setup was on point for this story. Anyway, I love this chapter and I hope it sates your curiosities; a lot of you have been dying to know who was behind everything. The next few chapters are going back to focus on Merlin rather than Morgana, so if you have more questions about her motivations etc., review and maybe they'll be answered after the next block of chapters. Love you guys!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: So, this is the day after Arthur became cruel again, and, as we now know, Morgana is behind it. Arthur is fighting it (at least subconsciously) and maybe trying to relieve some of Merlin's pain, but Arthur's efforts will often be in vain. Let's see how Merlin copes.**

When Merlin entered the king's chambers the next morning carrying a large platter of food, he looked over to the sleeping king and felt a wave of extraordinary sorrow. Already, the warlock was afraid, unsure if he could manage Arthur's violence and appearing normal to everyone else. He'd have to hide his injuries, remember not to flinch, and lie more than ever before.

"Good morning, sire," Merlin called in a soft tone as he set the platter on the table. Luckily, that woke the monarch on the first try. He arranged the plates of meats, cheeses, bread, and fruit by the king's seat at the table. He forced himself not to look up every few seconds to see if the king was approaching. Merlin finished the setting before Arthur sat down so they would not pass each other too closely.

"You never did finish washing this floor," The blonde mused after swallowing a bite of bread.

Merlin, who'd been standing to the side with his hands clasped behind his back, lowered his head. He was about to utter a guarantee that the deed would be done presently, but the king waved his hand dismissively. Impatiently.

"You may do it after training this morning."

"Training?" No, that couldn't be. Training with the knights? Before, Merlin hadn't been allowed outside. This possibility hadn't occurred to him. If the king took him to practice with the knights, they would see how Arthur was acting toward him - he couldn't risk it.

"Yes, training. You will accompany me for practice."

Merlin balled his hands into fists and grit his teeth. He couldn't let that happen. This was for Arthur, he reminded himself.

"No."

Arthur froze. "What did you say?"

Merlin took a deep breath. "I'm not going to practice with you."

The king pushed his seat from the table and stood deliberately. He turned on his heel and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close.

"Well? Why the hell not?"

"I-I…" The servant stuttered helplessly. "...don't want to."

He'd never seen the king so outraged. Arthur's eyes lit up with fury and, next thing the servant knew, he was sprawled on the floor a few yards away. Arthur rushed over and straddled him, delivering a blow to his face with a growl. Or, rather, tried to. Merlin's arm shot up in time to block the punch. He'd known it would further enrage the man, but it would be impossible to explain away another bruise so obvious.

By now, the monarch was a fearful sight, all maniacal eyes and a furled lip. Before the servant could protect himself, Arthur grasped two handfuls of his black hair, yanked up, and smashed his head into the floor. Merlin gasped as his skull burst into agony.

At the king's sharp inhale, tightening of his grip, and a threatening rumbling in his throat, Merlin could tell that he was about to repeat the violent action. In spite of himself, the servant let out a sob of defeat.

"Don't you think you'll get out of this that easily, coward."

Merlin lifted his arms and held Arthur's wrists loosely. "Please don't," he croaked lowly.

Arthur did without hesitation. The warlock's hands fell free with the force of the impact to his skull. He whimpered. Arthur stood and stepped away. Merlin couldn't see where he'd gone, his vision too blurry from the blows to his head. After a moment he heard the footsteps approach once more, just before something collided with his ribcage. Merlin wheezed and groaned, curling up on his side. His side was hit with as much force, and as he tried to render himself as small a target as possible, he realized it must be a poker from the set of iron rods by the fireplace.

"After all of the lessons, all the punishments, you still manage to disappoint," Arthur followed as Merlin tried to pull himself away. The king swung the rod down once more, where it met the servant's chest with a _thump_. Once Merlin stopped trying to back away in favor of cradling his ribs, Arthur unleashed a constant attack with hearty swings and their heavy impacts with whichever part of the cowering man's body was least protected.

"You defy me, and in the next breath beg for mercy." Another blow met the servant's back, which arched in pained reflex. "Why did you do it? Some pathetic sense of pride? I thought I'd beaten that out of you _ages_ ago."

Merlin reached out a hand, hovering an inch above the ground, a silent plea for reprieve. Arthur halted the next swing and let the poker rest against his shoulder. The warlock was crying, each sob wracking his fragile frame.

"I don't want to hear your usual sniveling. A real answer, if you will," Arthur warned.

Merlin licked his lips, finding the familiar metallic taste of blood. It was hard to think. "I-I don't know why I s-said no." He shuddered and closed his eyes. "I need help sometimes, to b-be good. Thank you for…" He took a shaky breath. "For fixing me. I'm sorry I was bad."

Arthur considered the answer. He lowered the rob from his shoulder and rested the point against the servant's throat. "You think you've learned your lesson, hmm?"

Merlin nodded in small movements. "Y-yes, sire. I'll be good."

Arthur tilted his head in consideration, then dropped the rod off to the side. The servant flinched at the clanging. The king knelt by his side. He pressed at the areas he'd beaten most severely with the rod, appraising the damage. Merlin tried not to squirm.

"Looks like you'll get what you wanted. You're hardly in shape to be any use at training. Tell you what. Finished washing the floor before I return and you can have the night off. Don't, and this rod here will go straight through you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sire," Merlin all but whispered.

* * *

He was afraid to return to Gaius. Ending up in this condition, on the first day? The old man would sooner knock him out with a potion and tackle the king himself than let Merlin die like this. But he was exhausted, hardly able to stay upright for all of the pain assailing his body, and horridly hungry. Not to mention that he had nowhere else to go.

Upon opening the door and finding an empty room, therefore, was a relief. Gaius was neither at his table working on tinctures, nor was he anywhere else in sight. Perhaps he was out delivering prescribed remedies or diagnosing a patient. For all Merlin knew, he was just in the market looking for fresh bread. So the servant limped across the quarters to his room, went up the few steps, and laid carefully on the bed, trying not to jar his injuries.

* * *

Merlin groaned sluggishly as he awoke. It was dark now. His body was sore, and the pounding of his head made him remember how dangerous it was to sleep after a serious blow to the head. The warlock childishly whined. Couldn't Gaius just treat him and give him a sleeping draught already? Was that too much to ask?

At the thought of his guardian, Merlin felt uneasy. It was not unusual for the physician to stay with a patient overnight, but with everything going on… well, maybe Gaius knew he could handle it.

Or maybe he didn't feel that Merlin needed help. Maybe he thought Merlin was being weak and was going to rely on him too much, and it was better to stay away. Well, that made some sense in the warlock's mind. Look how quickly he's accepted Arthur's change back, how he flinched and groveled and crowed, "Yes, sire."

Merlin made himself get up then. He really didn't want to think about himself at the moment. He decided to start brewing the remedies for tomorrow's rounds. It was the least he could do.

* * *

Morning came, and the warlock was glad for it. He'd finished the tinctures (and enhanced them all a bit with magic for practice), eaten the last bit of food stored in the chambers, and read some of Gaius' texts in search of what was controlling Arthur. As the sun rose, the servant put his most recent tome away and left to fetch the king's breakfast.

* * *

Today was bad. The king decided he was still a lousy servant and set out to 'train' him once more. When Merlin had failed to obey or react quick enough, the monarch quickly lost his patience and beat him into submission.

As if Merlin wasn't already giving all he could.

That night, when the servant finally made it back to his room, he sorely missed Gaius.

The next day, Merlin was increasingly worried about Gaius. The young warlock had now delivered two days of medicine, and no one seemed to know where the physician was. He felt terrible about thinking of himself when something could have happened to Gaius, but Merlin needed help. He couldn't treat all the bruises by himself, half of them were on his back. He was having trouble finding all of the ingredients and remembering all of the tinctures needed to treat the ills of the patients - he was only an apprentice after all. And since Merlin was not paid, and Gaius was not there to receive pay, he could buy no food. He loathed taking anything from the kitchens lest the king find out.

The servant cringed and dug his fingernails into his palm. Gaius was old, he could be in danger or hurt and all Merlin could do was think of himself. He was selfish. Without a care for the consequences, he took a plate of bread and cheese rather than a full breakfast from the kitchens, and headed not for the king's chambers but for the dungeons. If Merlin knew Arthur, he knew well where _this_ Arthur kept people he wanted to keep in check.

Though he'd guessed it, Merlin was still shocked to find Gaius being kept in a cell in the royal dungeons. He'd nodded to the guards, showing the humble plate of food, and entered the dark corridor. He recalled several times when _this_ Arthur had had him dragged down here and locked up until he obeyed or nearly died of dehydration. Then, he saw Gaius, and shuddered to think of the same happening to his guardian. But the old man did not look weak, ill, or injured. He was sat back against the back wall looking pensive until he saw his ward. Gaius' face burst into relief and worry. The guard opened the cell door and Merlin walked in. He knew that Gaius would want to hug him, but the guard was watching. The servant settled for handing over the plate and a weary smile.

"Merlin!" Gaius cried out, though not loud enough to draw attention. He looked his ward up and down. "Are you alright?"

"What happened?" Merlin asked, avoiding the question. "Why are you here?"

"I'm awaiting an explanation myself," The physician shook his head. "They just arrested me without a word, dragged me out of my chambers and straight here."

Merlin shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Gaius said softly. "It's not your fault."

"Oh, I don't know," A humored voice said from the doorway. Merlin spun around and paled. "Judging by recent trends, I'd say you can't trust a _thing_ he does. He'll lie to save himself any inconvenience. He'll steal the second you look away. He's a little weasel, this one." The king strode in and ruffled the servant's hair mockingly. "Now, what's this? Skipping duty to come consort with a _prisoner_?" Arthur's expression darkened. "Guards!"

Two guards entered and took Merlin by the arms, shoving him out of the cell. Arthur nodded to the cell across the narrow corridor. There, Merlin was shackled to the wall by the wrists, where he settled to his knees as the cell door was locked. He looked up to see Arthur smile chillingly.

"You will be released when I think you've done your penitence for such a grievous dereliction of duty." With that, he was gone.

"Oh, Merlin," Gaius said sadly. Merlin opened his mouth to say he was fine, that he needn't worry.

"No talking!" The guard barked. Merlin sighed and let his head fall.


	15. Chapter 15

He wasn't feeling particularly talkative anymore. He'd been in such a rush to find and speak to Gaius, but now that they had all the time in the world, Merlin realized the less his guardian knew, the better. The warlock was alone in this now and no amount of worrying on Gaius' part would make a difference.

Plus, talking made him feel nauseous. He hadn't been fed in three days chained there. At least Gaius had reprimanded the guards until they agreed to give him water.

Although Arthur wasn't happy to discover this.

"Hmm," The king hummed thoughtfully. "You seem rather _conscious_ for someone who's been left chained to a wall without food or water." He stood in front of the tense servant. "How did you manage that?" The monarch sank to his haunches and waited until the servant looked up uncertainly. At the self-incriminating silence, Arthur backhanded him. The king leaned in and whispered, "You're pathetic."

When the king left and the cell was locked once more, Merlin's head fell to his chest and he took shaky, shallow breaths. After a moment he gave a soft sound of defeat as he could not hold back a silent sob. His shoulders hitched along with his breaths. He did not want Gaius to witness his moment of weakness.

Gaius did not see a tear, but he grieved for his boy's despair, a terrible burden.

* * *

The only good thing about all of this, Merlin figured morbidly, was that he didn't have flashbacks or nightmares anymore. It was like his brain had been disoriented by the end of all the pain and fear, but now that it was back, he settled into his familiar mentality.

He was losing track of the days by the time Arthur came for him again. It had been a while since the warlock had been starved to the point of delirium. He cried when he saw the king, who determined he'd served his time and could return to work. Gaius watched warily as the servant thanked his master earnestly and promised to behave.

"You will eat with me tonight," The king said as he guided Merlin out of his cell by the shoulder. The servant was unsteady on his feet.

"Thank you, sire," Merlin replied hoarsely. He didn't look at Gaius as he was led out of the dungeons.

The walk to the king's chambers was a bit long for someone who'd been shackled in place for a week. The servant wasn't sure, once they made it inside the chambers, whether he'd fallen of his own accord by the table. This was cleared up when Arthur sat at his place and Merlin noticed there was only one setting of food on the table. His position dawned on him then.

When the first of the king's scraps, a chicken thigh picked nearly bare of meat, fell in front of him, Merlin was almost relieved. He'd been nervous to sit with the king to eat, like he'd be punished for daring to consider himself worthy. This felt closer to his true position. Hardly worth scraps.

Merlin cleaned up after without being asked. He rearranged the room, which had fallen into disarray in his absence, and helped the king prepare for bed before he was excused.

As he walked (slowly, careful not to push himself) to his chambers, Merlin realized apathetically that he didn't care who or what was controlling Arthur. What could a mere manservant do about it, anyway? Without Gaius, he had no hope of finding out the cause and source of the manipulation. He was barely making it as it was without taking on a supernatural force. For the time being, everyone was safe. That was all he could bring himself to care about.

Of course, that thought made him stop in his tracks. The papers! Surely Arthur hadn't been taking care of reading reports or approving trades or fielding reports of bandits. What if an entire village needed food or a protective envoy? He had to see, sort everything immediately. A week was far too long for the kingdom to go without her king (or his secret help).

Wishing that years serving Arthur hadn't imbued him with a sense of strategy, he turned around and made himself return to the king's chambers. It had been perhaps an hour since he'd left Arthur to sleep - he was likely out by now. To be certain, the servant pressed his ear to the door and listened. There, that was Arthur snoring. Okay. Merlin had to do this. No backing out, there could be lives at stake. A deep breath. His shaking hand met the cool iron handle and he pushed tentatively. The door opened without a sound, miraculously. Merlin peeked into the pitch dark room. Quiet. He snuck in so slowly that he wasn't sure he was moving. Not a sound, scarcely a breath. By the time he reached the desk, a bead of sweat was crawling down his temple.

Too dark, he realized. It was far too dark to read anything here, and he could hardly light a candle. No, he would have to move over to the window with each new piece of parchment to read by the moonlight. This would take very long.

Before he could panic and leave in surrender, Merlin took two parchments, what appeared to be guards' reports, and moved silently to the window. Well, according to those, the borders with Mercia and Essetir were uneventful. Very well. He placed those in a new pile and grabbed three more. Crop reports and a record of taxes from some outlying villages. Fine, all fine. Then, some letters from villagers expressing concern over a few hundred acres yielding an unexpectedly low amount of vegetables. Merlin decided to grant them some deliveries of surplus foodstuffs from a northern farm, which had offered the surplus to the castle as a sign of loyalty and gratitude for an allowance of fertile land.

In this manner, the servant went through over forty documents, mostly taking note of the kingdom's trajectory. He wrote a few edicts and grants of food or funds. Admittedly, deploying and relocating knights and guards had always been Arthur's expertise, but the warlock couldn't really consult with the strategist, so he did his best. He felt a bit put out about risking as much as he had when it seemed that there was no great disaster or emergency, but at least he'd done a great load of issuing payment, corresponding with leaders, and distributing minor aid to villages. It was the minor things that required maintenance like this to keep a kingdom running smoothly.

Gathering up the papers that needed to be sent, he cast one cautious glance at the king before leaving the same way he came: carefully. He arrived at the records annex around sunup, which he knew without having just passed a window because the records keeper was always up by dawn. Merlin handed off the pile with a tired smile to the annoyed Geoffrey before leaving.

 **A/N: He's so brave. No matter what he's put through, I believe that Merlin will always put the good of the kingdom before himself. Not to mention how he'd sooner protect Arthur than himself in a heartbeat. I'm just going to warn you - the next chapter will break your heart. I'm sorry but Merlin is not going to be okay anytime soon. Hope y'all don't mind how much I've been updating lately, I just keep getting ideas. Thank you for your kind reviews as well as your questions and doubts, they help me make this story more solid. Please let me know what you like to see! Tell me your favorite line, I'm so curious!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: These are two dreams that Merlin has. His flashbacks and nightmares stopped for a while there, but now his mind is messing with him a bit and it's very disconcerting. As you read this chapter, consider the implications of his dreams and what he's most afraid of. With all the stress he's under and the abuse he's put through, his subconscious is pretty screwy.**

 _It was a dream, but he didn't want to think those words because then he'd wake up and it'd be over. Arthur had tried to kill him. He'd run him through with a sword, and it hurt a lot but he wasn't scared even as the pool of blood spread around him. Merlin watched as Arthur realized what he'd done and whatever controlled him lost its grip on his mind at the horror. Arthur fell to his knees, hands going to the wound but stopping before he caused any more damage. The king looked into his eyes, desperate for forgiveness but unable to give voice to his grief._

 _Merlin just shook his head and gave a small smile. He'd never had a dream like this before, but he felt overwhelmed with peace at the scene. All he wanted in that moment was to exude nothing but forgiveness, to make Arthur stop crying silently and see him smile, or at least feel less guilty._

 _He was getting colder. It must be the blood spilling from the wound. His mind sure made this feel real. In a last-ditch effort to let Arthur know he was forgiven, the warlock reached out to hold his hand. He didn't trust himself to speak - if he made a sound, would he wake up? He didn't want to waste a second of seeing his friend restored to his true kindness. But when he touched Arthur's skin, it was hot as fire. Merlin pulled his hand back with a hiss. Arthur looked more devastated at this._

 _"I just can't help hurting you," The blonde sighed in dismay._

Merlin awoke then. He'd fallen out of bed, the cold stone being what he'd thought was blood loss in his dream. It did not disturb him that he'd just felt a semblance of death, but rather that even in that last moment, Arthur felt the burden of hurting him. Arthur couldn't even hear him anymore, he just saw the pain he wrought. The warlock shivered, feeling more cold and alone than ever before.

* * *

The next dream was far more realistic, so much so that Merlin awoke in a cold sweat and couldn't make himself move out of bed for a long time.

 _In the dream, he and Arthur walked together through the halls, having exhausted lighthearted banter and enjoying the silence of a castle at rest. At the sun's descent and the moon's appearance, they'd left the dining hall and were returning to the king's chambers._

 _Merlin marveled at how much had changed. After the year, there had been calm. Being around the knights had gotten easier and being with Arthur had developed a bond of trust unlike that which they'd known before. He was glad that despite everything, he was at Arthur's side and the kingdom was safe._

 _Arthur stopped abruptly and grabbed his own head. He seemed to be cringing._

 _"Arthur?" Merlin asked, moving in front of him and raising a hand hesitantly, concerned._

 _Just as suddenly as this had happened, Arthur's face cleared and he lowered his arms. He blinked, then took a deep breath._

 _"I thought I told you not to dare speak my name."_

 _"What?" Merlin startled, taking a step back._

 _Arthur stepped closer, eyes piercing. "You are to address me as befits a king."_

 _"Sire, I-" He took another step back, shaking his head. "Arthur..."_

 _Arthur's face contorted in rage. "You impudent mutt," He growled and advanced._

 _Merlin's face went sheet white and he retreated a little faster. "No, this isn't happening..."_

 _"Oh, I assure you, it is. And this time you won't escape me."_

 _The king charged, reaching for the servant, but Merlin was already running. Arthur bellowed and sprinted after him._

 _Running as hard as he could, Merlin sped down the corridors, sliding around corners and begging the universe that he wouldn't trip. His breaths came harsh and burning and his heart pounded in his ears, but he could still hear Arthur yelling, demanding that he stop. This was happening again. This couldn't happen - he couldn't take this happening again - but it was. Merlin felt like screaming his lungs out, like hiding forever or jumping off the castle's highest wall. His mind was flooded with panic and horror, and his side was alight with pain from running, and his breaths were painfully shallow and his vision was growing dim-_

 _And he was tackled from behind. Merlin yelped in terror as sturdy arms wrapped around his waist and he was dragged to the floor, trapped in his worst nightmare._

 _"You'll pay for that, Merlin."_

 _Arthur began to deliver punches and kicks to his friend, commencing a seemingly endless onslaught of blows and taunts. Merlin's distress made his throat catch and he felt tears rush forth as his king, his friend, his destiny tortured him._

 _He didn't want this, didn't want the pain and fear and shame to be the last things he felt. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die alone, before Arthur, without Arthur. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He was a failure. Merlin choked back a sob as he realized that this was it, this was the end. He was to be killed by someone he loved beyond this world, someone he had failed by a cruel twist of fate. As each new agony brought him closer to death, the warlock believed that he deserved it._

 _Merlin's screams and sobs died down as the brutal beating continued. Soon he was too breathless even for a whimper, and Arthur's blows halted. The king was straddling the servant. He no longer seemed righteously livid, but rather full of hatred all the same. He unsheathed his dagger._

 _Merlin was crying. "P-please don't."_

 _The blonde huffed in amusement. "Do you really think you don't deserve this?"_

 _The warlock shook his head a bit. "No, I know I d-do. But h-h-he doesn't."_

 _Arthur smiled coldly. "Whatever do you mean?" He flipped the dagger over and over in his hand casually._

 _The servant took a shuddering breath. "You're controlling him, and he'll remember. He shouldn't h-have to see this. It isn't f-fair. P-please," his voice cracked in fear and desperation, "Please don't make him. It's n-not his fault."_

 _"Why worry about him? You are going to die. The only thing you can control is whether you make any more pathetic sounds before you go."_

 _"Please, you can have me, just let him go. M-make someone else do it, he doesn't deserve th-this, please!"_

 _The blade was now at his throat. Merlin couldn't hold back a whimper. "Please."_

 _Arthur paused, then smiled once more. He lifted the dagger and drove it into the pinned man's gut._

 _Merlin jolted in agony and took a jerking gasp, looking down at the blade impaled to the hilt and the quickly spreading stain of blood on his shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to reign in the pain, then he looked up. He was growing pale and shaking, but his gaze was strong and calm._

 _"I-I..." he took a halting breath. "I forgive you."_

 _Arthur stood, looking disinterested, and began to walk away._

 _"Arthur, I forgive you." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "I p-promise, I forgive you... I forgive y-... you. A-Arth-thur..." His shallow breaths grew farther and farther apart as he watched his king disappear down the long corridor._

Yes, that dream would haunt him for a long time. It nearly made him lose hope. Who was to say that Arthur would ever be normal again? Even if he was restored just like after that terrible year, could he change back anytime? Merlin suddenly felt like he'd lost his friend for good.

 **A/N: Fun fact - that second dream was what I originally wrote as the ending, months ago. The last line after "His shallow breaths grew farther and farther apart as he watched his king disappear down the long corridor" was going to describe Merlin's glassy eyes because it was his actual death scene. Isn't that devastating? I just couldn't follow through. I'm glad I could use it at least as a dream because it's critical. Merlin's afraid of dying without closure, of failing Arthur and leaving him with the terrible guilt of his death. Oh, I am terrible. I am a terrible, terrible person.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: This chapter is much less dark. It can't all be horrific, there has to be something to carry on for.**

"Merlin!"

The warlock just about jumped in his skin at the cheery booming voice. He turned around from where he'd been sweeping the floor. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cringe at the sight of Gwaine and Percival standing at the door of the physician's chambers. Gwaine was wearing a ridiculous grin and Percival looked upbeat as well.

"How's it going, old chap? Haven't seen you around lately." The rogue knight said as he entered, glancing around. "This place is spotless. Gaius has really been running you ragged, huh?" He ran a finger across the table. "I could lick this thing. I won't, but I could. It's just that clean."

Merlin's apprehension at having to interact was overshadowed by amusement. "You've done it before."

"Oh, that doesn't count," Gwaine waved his hand. "It was spilling, and there were no rags around! If I didn't stop it, you would have had ale all over your floor! I was doing you a favor."

"Why did you bring ale in here anyway?" The servant retorted.

"I was coming in to get a little something for the headache, no one said the party was over yet!"

"Maybe you wouldn't get so many headaches if you weren't always _drinking._ "

Gwaine turned to him and smiled his crinkly-eyed smile. "Now you're just nagging. You're being very naggy. Isn't he, Percy? Just like the princess."

Merlin was glad Gwaine was looking back at Percival, because the mere mention of Arthur made Merlin nervous that the knights would notice something was off. Eager to change the subject, he cleared his throat.

"Not to be rude, but why are you here? I am rather busy."

"Well," The rogue knight shrugged, "we - me and Percy, that is - were wondering what the hell is going on with Arthur."

Merlin schooled his expression, drawing his brows together a bit as if mildly curious. "What do you mean?"

Gwaine looked over to Percival, then back at Merlin. "You must have noticed. He's insufferable lately."

"Isn't he always?" The warlock replied noncommittally.

"He actually yelled at Leon yesterday. Yelled! At Leon! If he's not the biggest suck up I've ever seen-"

"I think he prefers the term 'loyal'," Percy supplied helpfully.

"Sure, the most loyal. Anyway, Arthur's _never_ done that before. And I haven't actually seen you _at all._ " Gwaine's expression grew very serious then. "Is everything okay? He's not pushing you too hard, is he?"

Merlin laughed at that. "Gwaine, I've known him a bit longer than you have. He's just stressed. And I asked him to stop babying me, so that's why I've been so busy. For us, that's what's normal - he gives me a bunch of boring chores, and I get him back by putting bugs in his socks."

At this, Gwaine chuckled. "Okay, if you say so. As long as you get him back good. Maybe put some rat dropping in his sheets tonight, see if that loosens his britches."

"Not likely, I'd have to wash them later. I'll have to settle for pouring salt in his wine."

The knights scrunched their noses. "That should do it," Percival commented.

"Now, don't you have some targets to lob your swords at or something?" The servant said impatiently, eager to finish his tedious work.

Gwaine raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, we'll let you get back to it." He gave one last meaningful look to the servant. "As long as everything's really okay."

Merlin waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, now please, stop _babying_ me."

The knight shrugged. "Sure, soon as you stop whining like a baby!" He ducked out, followed by Percival before Merlin could give an indignant comeback.

The warlock felt some small warmth in his chest. Normal. He'd acted normal. He felt quite a bit better about himself after the light interaction with his old friends.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: This is not the last chapter, but were are nearing the end. I have a sequel already half-written, fret not! But I think it's about time for poor Merlin to find some peace. What do you think? ... You maaaaaay want a tissue box handy for this chapter, it is an emotional ride. Think of it as the story's climax.**

The king allowed Merlin his one rebellion and permitted him staying inside during sparring practice. Every day, while Arthur was outside training with the knights, the servant went to the king's desk to manage that work. Sometimes it cut into his time to complete an appointed task, but he was resigned to accepting the ensuing punishment if it meant the kingdom continued to thrive.

He even found a way to reach out to Gaius in a manner. It was a small gesture, but he let the cook in on one or two of Gaius' favorite recipes and even gathered the ingredients for them. At least that way, he knew his guardian was eating enough, and eating well.

Merlin had struck a deal with the cook besides: he would help out in the kitchens whenever he had a bit of free time, and he was allowed to take whatever he wanted to eat (as long as it was not needed and was easily replaced). So he was in no danger of starving (although he didn't eat much despite this opportunity: pain could be quite nauseating).

Running into the knights occasionally was inevitable. When he did see them, he was calm and cheerful. He managed not to cringe or breathe a sound of pain when Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder or in some other jolly, carefree gesture aggravated an injury. But he kept the interactions very short and never gave details on that day's tasks. If they didn't know where he'd be, he'd be much less likely to have to lie more. It was already all he could do to misguide them, his friends who he'd worked so hard to be able to trust, and whose trust he now betrayed. He wanted to tell Gwaine what was happening, that everything was complicated and dangerous and he needed someone. But, of course, he didn't. He couldn't. He could only smile and laugh and lie.

When it came to health, there tended to be an eventual regression to a survivable middle ground over time. Between escalations to broken bones and deep wounds that bled stubbornly, and calmer periods of scarcely a bruise, there were long stretches where one serious punishment or another served as a lasting warning and only sporadic reinforcement was used. These times were most common and what Merlin could handle. A serious punishment was almost a good omen - it meant that he could earn forgiveness and then live from lesson to lesson. It was what he was trained for, in a way.

Everything was bound to fall apart.

He was going through the mess of reports on the desk, having just begun his daily assessment of the kingdom conducted while the knights were training, and Arthur burst in. Merlin flinched, froze, and paled. The king hadn't gone out to practice at all - he'd been waiting to catch him.

Merlin was almost numb as he was yanked from his seat, thrown to the floor, yelled at. He just felt resigned. This was always a possibility (even inevitable). The risk was too great, eventually he'd be caught, or Arthur's forgiveness would run out, and he'd be too far gone for mercy. As Arthur stood over him, the very image of fury, Merlin decided he wouldn't really mind dying. If it was his final punishment, he'd accept it.

The king dragged him over to the nearest bedpost and stepped back. "Take off your shirt."

Oh. Merlin's breath caught in his throat. As he made his shaking hands begin to pull his shirt over his head, his resolution began to crumble. He didn't want to die like this. Tied up like a dog, beaten bloody.

Suddenly his cheek stung from a slap and he looked up. He hadn't been listening. He knew better than that.

Arthur glared down at him. "You are a traitor. There is no punishment too severe for your treachery. Tell me, what have you done? What sabotage have you committed behind my back?"

Merlin shook his head, eyes full of sorrow. "I did nothing, sire."

The king huffed indignantly. As Merlin was turned to face the post and his hands were bound there, he almost felt sorry for the king's hands to leave. It was one of the last things he'd feel, this contact, before the interrogation and his execution. No matter how rough those hands could be, he couldn't help missing the camaraderie once expressed by pats on the shoulder, handing off a sword, passing a serving of food out in the woods.

The first lash met his skin, but the servant barely flinched.

"What did you do?" The king demanded. Merlin only shook his head once more. Arthur couldn't hear him. Arthur was gone.

As the lashes were delivered, the leather had done its work leaving his skin raw and sensitive. Now, harsher strokes began cutting into it.

"You are a _traitor!_ There's no denying it. You've been at my side for years. _Tell me_ what havoc you've wreaked, snake!"

"I o-only wished to s-serve!" Merlin forced out on scattered breaths.

"Liar!"

The servant hunched forward more. "I'm sorry."

The lashes continued to gouge his flesh, yet as the agony assaulted his mind, the true torture was his grief. It was another few blows until he cried out from the pain.

"What secrets did you feed my enemies? How many _lives_ did you sell?!"

Merlin just yelled in pain, unable to answer. How could he? There was no chance of answering in a way to stop this.

" _Answer me!_ " The king bellowed as the servant was torn apart.

"None! I-I serve you, s-s-sire, only you!" He was sobbing.

"You _lied_ , betrayed me! All this time, playing the loyal servant…"

"Please, sire," Merlin begged. "I didn't. I wouldn't-" The pain was too much, it stole his breath.

The flogging pressed on, tearing the warlock's back into a bloody mess. Arthur didn't even notice when the servant passed out.

Merlin awoke in a cell. He didn't make a sound as he came to. His arms were manacled to the wall, just as before. He supposed this was where he would stay until he was executed, unless Arthur meant for him to rot alone. That was just as likely. He was not afraid. Merlin just felt very, very tired.

Gaius called to him from his cell. Merlin did not respond. His head hung, chin to his bruised chest, breathing shallow and slow.

Someone came down the steps a distance away, walking toward the cells. Merlin still did not move. He knew it was Arthur. The cell door was unlocked and the king entered.

"Are you ready to die?"

Merlin felt numb. _Yes,_ he thought groggily. _Why not?_

His wrists were released from the shackles, and he fell to the hay-strewn floor. Now, Merlin's eyes saw across the floor. There were no guards, just Arthur. Arthur had unlocked the cell door. Arthur had released him from the manacles. Suddenly, Merlin was overwhelmed by how _personal_ this was. Arthur was so _excited_ to see him dead that he would do it _himself._ Would Arthur cut his throat? Would he gut him, beat him, whip him to death? How much _fun_ would he have? Gods, it wasn't even like a curse anymore, just someone whose _purpose_ was to hurt him. This _thing_ was so perverse, so cruel, so unlike the Arthur who was good and wise and kind.

Arthur grabbed the servant's arm, and Merlin lost it. This wasn't Arthur. This was Death. Merlin felt so repulsed, so terrified, so utterly _broken_ that he gave up. With a maniacal scream, he unleashed every bit of magic writhing beneath his skin.

Of course, he was still good. He was still made for healing and mercy. No, he didn't hurt Arthur. His magic manifested in a warm, glowing orb which surrounded him. It forced Arthur back a few paces and enshrined the screaming warlock in a blue light, protecting him.

His powers were weak with disuse. As soon as Merlin's scream faded for lack of air, the light was extinguished for lack of strength. He was on his knees, arms at his sides. The warlock looked up slowly.

Arthur was looking in his direction, but his eyes were unfocused. He was still.

Gaius was silent now.

Merlin got up and stood on shaky legs. He had to go. Where, he didn't know, but every instinct he had was screaming at him to get away. So he ran.

* * *

Someone was whispering. Speaking. No, yelling. Arthur blinked, feeling as if he was waking up. But, no, he was standing. Somewhere dark. A _cell_. _What the hell?_

"Sire!" Gaius called again. He'd been yelling from his cell for a while now.

Arthur turned in that direction. "Gaius?" He stared at the physician, locked up in a cell, then saw the blood on the wall of the cell he himself stood in. Oh.

 _Oh._

"Oh, gods," Arthur stumbled back, realizing what had happened. "Merlin!"

"He's gone, sire," The physician confirmed. "He ran out. You must find him!"

Arthur nodded and ran out.

He didn't know where to go. Where would Merlin run to? Would he leave, run to the woods? Would he hide? Would he want to be safe, or just far away?

Arthur couldn't try to think. Too many feelings and memories - frantic worries were drowning his mind. He just ran. Thinking of Merlin, searching for him, he stopped _thinking_ and just ran. He raced up the tower stairs to the wall where they used to oversee the kingdom. When they were nearly equals, when Merlin trusted him, when they shared a vision for the future.

As Arthur reached the top of the stairs and the cold night air hit him, he knew he was right to have come here.

Merlin was standing on the very edge of the wall. His silhouette stood dark and lonely, a stark shadow amongst the thousands of stars in the clear night sky. Arthur stepped closer, transfixed on the sight. The thin form was shivering, cool air whipping past him and ruffling his hair, but he did not look afraid. He was not hunched over in pain, but standing straight. His arms were wrapped around himself. His head was tilted as he stared at the ground far below.

"Stay back," The warlock warned without looking back.

Arthur did. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving," Merlin replied. He sounded weary.

"Don't," The king shivered. "You don't have to." He was reaching out, as if he could touch Merlin from that far, as if one touch could convey everything he felt.

"It's too late." There was no anger in his gentle tone, no fear.

"It's not," Arthur still reached. "Merlin, you are so _good._ If- if this is about the magic," He pushed through his hesitation. "I don't care. You're kind and patient and wise. I _need_ you."

Merlin shook his head. "I can't. I can't stay. It's all _gone._ "

"I'm here. You and me, Merlin. It's not gone, it's not over. You can come back."

"I-" His breath hitched. Arthur wanted to pull him back. He looked so cold, standing there, shirt gone and pale skin marred by gashes across his back. Merlin must have felt so terribly alone all this time, having magic, too noble to use it to protect himself, too brave to give up before he'd broken. It wasn't fair.

"You brought me back," Arthur called.

Merlin didn't respond, but his head tilted a little.

"I was trapped. I couldn't stop it, I couldn't reach the real world… but then I saw your _light_ , Merlin. It… it was _beautiful_. It was good, I know it was. You didn't try to hurt me, you just wanted to be safe. It brought me back. That feeling, that light was so strong, it broke the curse's hold on me."

"Curse?"

"Yes," Arthur's tone darkened. "It was Morgana."

Merlin tilted his head up to look at the stars. "Morgana."

"She wanted revenge. It was just hate. But you're the opposite, Merlin. You are light. I know that it's not over. You're strong. You want to stay."

"You're wrong."

"No, I'm not."

"How would you know?"

"I know _you,_ " Arthur insisted. "And you have so much left to do. You're looking to the stars, Merlin. There is hope."

"I want to see them one more time."

"They're yours," Arthur blurted. "You can have them."

Merlin laughed softly. Sadly. "You can't give me the stars."

"Yes, I can. I am _king._ I own everything. Whatever you want, it's yours. The whole world. Everything. Anything."

The servant gave a long-suffering sigh. "Why are you doing this?"

Arthur moved forward. "Step down."

"No."

"Come off the ledge." He was still moving forward.

"No."

Arthur was close now. "Just come back."

He was an arm's reach away.

"I'm not going to touch you," The king promised. "I'm just giving you my cloak."

Merlin tensed as Arthur draped his red cape over his shoulders. Merlin pulled the smooth cloth together, relishing in the warmth.

Standing there, standing over the citadel, features hard and worn, cloak billowing in the wind, he looked more a king than a servant.

Arthur held his hand out beside his friend. There were no more entreaties, no more pleas. Just that hand offered to help him, to support him. After a moment contemplating the cobblestone ground far, far below, Merlin placed his hand in Arthur's. His fingers were cold as ice, delicate. Arthur pulled back gently, almost afraid that more than a light touch would shatter his friend. Merlin stepped down and looked at Arthur for the first time.

"I'll stay, then," The servant murmured.

Arthur hugged him. He never wanted to let go.

 **A/N: *sobs* Oh, sweetheart! Poor dear. What is your favorite line or image from this chapter? I poured all of my emotions into this, and I had a rough night. When I'm upset, I put a LOT of time into the imagery. It's just the best way to express the despair or fear or rage of a character - their body language and the lighting and all that. I love this chapter. I love these boys. Do you love them? Do you hate me?**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: This. This is the last chapter. Thank you for your patience, I know you were all eager for this, and the sequel. Thank you for your reviews. I love this story dearly; it has become something I am very proud of. I am grateful for all of you who shared your favorite lines, who hounded me for answers and more chapters, who said you appreciate my writing. It means so much. I've grown attached to this universe with ReluctantlyViolent!Arthur, Submissive!Merlin, and Guilty!Knights (plus Protective!Gwaine). I mean, the story kind of writes itself. I hope you are content with this ending, and that you leave a comment if you have any requests for the sequel, any farewells to the story, and any bones to pick with me. Your criticisms and questions forge the next content into a more solid, vivid story. Y'all are writing this as much as I am.**

" _Again_?"

Percival would have held Gwaine back when he surged forward in anger, but the larger knight was trying to keep himself in check. The rogue knight got in Arthur's face, seething.

"You let it happen _again_?" Before he could linger on the thought of Arthur's part in the whole debacle, Gwaine spun on his heel, looking around the room and running a hand through his hair. "How did I not- how did we miss that? He almost bloody _died_?" His back was turned to the others, now, and his hands were balled into fists.

Merlin watched, standing slightly behind Arthur, silent. He knew how hard this was for the knights, who saw it as their duty to protect him. Especially Gwaine, who'd been so patient, so compassionate since the first curse. He'd done everything he could to make Merlin feel safe and heard. The wild knight was working to hold back his outrage, but the silent question was there - why had Merlin lied? Why had he put on an act, suffered in silence? Didn't he trust them?

"I'm sorry, Gwaine," Merlin stepped forward. The knights were about to clamor that he needn't apologize, but he pressed on. "No, you all deserve to hear it. I should have known to ask for help. It would be easy to say I was scared, or that it all got out of control so fast, but that's not really why. It's just… I'm still not used to trusting others. I haven't been able to tell anyone this, ever, unless they were like me. But…" Arthur already knew, there was no reason to still dread saying it aloud. "I have magic."

The extent of the reaction was that Leon's head tilted to the side a bit as he added that to his perception of recent events. Otherwise, the knights' reaction was underwhelming. Merlin's brow furrowed a bit, but he pressed on, figuring it would sink in as he explained. "I've never been able to trust someone else, not really. Since I got to Camelot, I've had to sneak out, lie, mess with people's lives just to get by, to keep my secret and protect Arthur without anyone knowing."

Still, there was no big reaction. Gwaine had turned around to watch Merlin share his secret, but he hadn't moved other than that. As Merlin watched him, increasingly confused, the knight finally shrugged. "I mean, it makes sense. You're pretty weird. It kind of pales in comparison to, 'Hey, just so you know, Arthur's been torturing me again, and I almost killed myself, but everything's fine now'."

"That was pretty much my reaction," Arthur supplied. Merlin looked at the blonde incredulously.

"Is that all I get?" The warlock asked, almost annoyed. "Not that I wanted yelling and getting dragged off to the dungeons, but I expected a bit more than that. All those years, anxious, anticipating the big reveal, and that's all?"

"Yup," Arthur supplied evenly. "That's all."

"If anyone deserves to get locked up, it's pretty boy there," Gwaine pointed at Arthur.

"It's not his fault," Merlin parried predictably.

"I know, but I'm _really_ angry about it."

"How do you think he feels?" Arthur argued, gesturing to Merlin.

"I don't know, probably miffed that he didn't get payback, some retribution!"

"I'll give you retribution!"

"Oi!" Merlin got between the knight and king. "Stop fighting like children, I'm-"

"He's the Court Advisor, you know!" Arthur blurted. "Ranked higher than a knight! Doesn't that count for something?"

"What, you get used as an evil puppet, beat him to a pulp, then give him a pity promotion? You're not his friend, you're his employer!"

"Employer? I'm a king! If I'm an employer, your payment is the honor of serving Camelot! And I'm a _really good_ employer!"

"It's pointless," Merlin mumbled and walked away. Gwaine and Arthur continued to bicker as he left the throne room.

By the time Merlin made it to the physician's chambers, the fabric of his shirt had chafed against the bandages protecting his newly torn back enough that he wore a grimace and walked slowly. Gaius noticed this as soon as he walked in, of course, but he still greeted the boy with a hug. He couldn't help it, it was such a relief to see him after everything they'd been through.

"Gaius, I've not been gone an hour. What is with everyone today?" He cringed. "Do you mind? I'm just a bit sore."

"Right, well, I should redress your wounds."

"Not for another two hours, you don't!" Merlin pulled away, far from eager to feel the sting of air against his back again just because Gaius was overbearing.

"I've been a physician for-"

"Far longer than I have, right. Maybe all those years are a weakness after all? Age is not kind to the mind." Merlin tapped a finger against his temple with a mockingly concerned expression.

"At least let me get you a draught for the pain," The physician moved toward the nearest table to sort through the glass bottles there. Merlin walked farther into the room and sat on the cot in the center.

"I never said anything about pain," He grumbled.

Gaius was silent a moment. The only sound in the room was the clinking of glass and the rustling of sage hanging to dry at the window.

"You may not want to hear it," Gaius said, moving to the shelves to find the right bottle, "But I am proud of you. You didn't deserve to go through all of that alone."

"No, go on with the praise," The young warlock sighed, "I just told the knights my biggest secret and they didn't even blink. I could do with some attention."

"They weren't surprised?"

"No, Gwaine just started arguing with Arthur. Like I wasn't even there."

"Perhaps they were trying to help."

"Help by fighting? Sounds like the logic of a knight alright. Bloody brutes."

"Well, with the spells drawing violence to you and turning your friends' mere proximity toward inducing stress, I should think that they'd be careful to remain calm and amicable in your presence. How would you have reacted if they started forward or cried out in shock? Would it make you feel unsafe?"

"I dunno," Merlin shrugged uncomfortably. He'd rather thought he was unflappable and powerful after the who coming out to Arthur as a warlock and, well, being offered the stars and all. "Do you think they really do care and are hiding it? Are they going to-"

"No," Gaius assured him swiftly, "I do not think you will be punished. I don't believe that they would care even if they were told at a time of utter peace. They're your friends, all of them. I do, however," He posited, handing Merlin his potion, "think that you should recognize that they are there for you. You are not alone. They're not clueless or pitying, they will stand by your side and give you courage when you need it. And before you complain that they are 'babying you', or trying too hard to keep you at ease, remember that they act out of love." His guardian gave Merlin a knowing look. "As you protect Arthur, they will protect you."

Merlin sat up a little straighter at that. "You think so?"

"Would you want to be in Arthur's shoes next time Gwaine thinks he's being too hard on you? Let alone a true enemy?"

Merlin shook his head resolutely. "No, I would not."

"Drink your draught, go on."

"Talk about babying," The physician's ward huffed in annoyance. "I'm pretty sure I could do better with a spell than with your rancid potions." He raised the glass bottle and tilted it back, downing the maroon liquid.

"Best to practice now, then. Arthur said he'll be naming you Court Sorcerer soon."

Merlin promptly spat out the draught, then gasped. "He what? _Court Sorcerer?_ "

* * *

"That old fool, it was supposed to be a surprise. Ah, well, it's true. You are now Camelot's first Court Sorcerer."

"I- what does that even mean? Are you serious? What about the laws? You can't-" Merlin stuttered out each question running through his mind, a smile gradually winning out over his shocked expression. He'd rushed to the king's chambers as soon as he'd heard the news.

"You're not the court jester, Merlin, don't fret about practicing any new tricks. Akin to your position as Advisor, you will be offering insights into magical threats, and providing tactical support to my person and my patrols. At your own discretion."

"So… basically what I've always done. Except now you have to listen to my advice, and I don't have to hide my magic."

"Don't get all high and mighty, _Mer_ lin."

"But I've always done those things, the only difference is that you can't be such a prat about it!"

"I can be a prat about it if I like! I mean, I'm not a prat - listen. The difference is that you don't have to be afraid anymore." Arthur stepped closer to Merlin, making eye contact. "I will change the laws, the people will change over time. You will stay by my side - that is, you may, if you wish. You will be as my equal. At the very least," The king's voice was softer now, "you have earned that."

Merlin was shaking his head in wonder. "Your equal. Your equal." He couldn't believe it. His mouth opened, then closed, and he shook his head once more. "That's unheard of, you know. Remember when Uther granted Gaius citizenship a few years ago? He got to be, like, a hundred years old before he qualified as a _person_. And you're making me your _equal_? The _king_?"

"Gaius is not a hundred years old. And… I want things to be different. You are a person. You're more than that, you're powerful, and brave, and-"

"Oh, enough of that, I don't want you to pass out with the effort."

"Thanks," Arthur sighed dramatically, "I'd much rather bant than inflate your ego. It's big enough as is."

" _My_ ego is big? Are you really saying that, to me? Arthur Pendragon, calling _me_ conceited?"

"Yes, I am!"

"Do you recall saying something like, 'You can have whatever you want, I can do that because I'm king of _everything_ '? You realize you're not, right? There's a very definitive border marking what is yours, and the _rest of the world_."

"Says 'the most powerful warlock to ever live'!"

"Oh, Gaius was being dramatic when he told you that! He's just tired of keeping it a secret. You know old people and their gossip."

"Gossip? It's a prophecy!"

"According to Kilgharrah, who is, you guessed it, just an old lizard."

"Lizard? _Lizard?_ "

Merlin smiled. After everything, they were still together. Exchanging stupid, pointless bants. Making plans to change Camelot for the better, plans to help people. Merlin would still serve, still protect Arthur. The difference now was that he would be given the freedom to do it without hiding. The chance to stay at Arthur's side - or, rather, to finally stand there rather than in the shadows. They would remember everything that they had been through, the pain and fear and sorrow that they suffered. But Merlin was not alone, and for the first time in his life, he believed that. Everything they had been through, he resolved, was worth it to have this. Family. Freedom. Good friends and a home all his own.

He could deal with the passing memory of pain for the reward of a future at Arthur's side. It wasn't about destiny, duty anymore. It was right to stay. It was good. All of the hardship had only strengthened their bond.

They would not fear the future, or any threat it may hold. They would face it together.


End file.
